The next few weeks were filled with paperwork, changes in ship assignments, meetings with Sulu to go over which ship would cover what quadrant. He'd gone up to the Enterprise four times, slept in his cabin for a ten-day stretch because it was easier than waking up early to catch the 0600 transport just so Scotty could send him up the tubes again to review another questionable modification.

He called Spock every night that week when he retired to his cabin for the evening. When Spock picked up, Jim felt a jolt of excitement and spoke to him in a hushed tone, like the walls were listening. He lay on his back on the thin regulation mattress, and he imagined the tips of Spock's fingers against his. Spock spoke little, mostly listening to Jim recount his day, and always wished him a restorative sleep.

"Wait, put your hand in the air," Jim said on the fourth night before Spock had terminated the connection.

"For what purpose?" came Spock's voice, which was soft, and Jim imagined him whispering into his ear.

"You know, so I can pretend I'm kissing you," Jim said, aware that it was corny. He blushed furiously at his own words but held his fingers up anyway. Spock claimed he did the same. Jim felt giddy as he fell asleep.

After a week of solitary nights in his cabin, Jim found he no longer liked sleeping alone. It surprised him how quickly he'd gotten used to Spock's presence in just two weeks, how much he'd miss Spock stretched out beside him when they were apart for five years. They hadn't actually done anything more than lie next to one another and engage in copious amounts of Vulcan-style kissing, which Jim found equal parts frustrating and satisfying. Jim wasn't sure if Spock had ever kissed the human way before, and for the first time, he didn't want to rush into sex. This was...this was worth taking his time, but the February launch date was approaching quickly, and Spock outright refused an appointment as science officer every chance Jim offered. He tried to take Bones's advice and not think about it.

Spock was studying in the kitchen when Jim got home on Friday with a pint of vanilla ice cream and a fifth of whiskey. He was still in his uniform, head bent over a PADD. Jim stuck the ice cream in the freezer and set the bottle on the counter, draping himself over Spock's back.

"I missed you," Jim said against his ear. "I had one hell of a week. I don't suppose you want to cuddle up on the couch and do shots?"

Spock passed on drinking but agreed to sit with him. Jim sprawled out, leaning against Spock's side as he watched the news and drank straight from the bottle, occasionally leaning over to press a kiss to Spock's shoulder. Spock continued to read, but he smiled when Jim trailed a kiss along his hand.

"Do you want to watch a vid or something?" Jim suggested, the whiskey a pleasant burn in his chest that chased away the week's stresses.

"I must study," Spock said, "and I have lab practicals to grade."

Jim placed a hand on the PADD, partially covering the screen. "Don't you have aides for that?" he asked playfully.

"I do, but I admit I find myself to be a more thorough judge of my students' work."

"How many hours have you been studying?"

"Six," Spock said.

"Did you eat dinner?"

"I will."

"Spock, you have to take a break once in a while," Jim said, flicking the power switch. The screen went dark. "It's good for the mind."

"I am Vulcan," Spock reminded him, and the screen glowed bright again. "I do not require frequent breaks as a human does."

"You're also half human."

"I am Vulcan," Spock repeated, his voice harder. Jim pressed his head into his hand and rubbed it over his face.

"This is always going to be a thing with you, isn't it," he muttered. He sat up, and the whiskey's pleasant effects were suddenly diminished. He set the bottle aside.

Spock narrowed his eyes. "Clarify," he said.

"Being human versus Vulcan," Jim said, resting his arms on his knees. The news broadcast continued in the background, but Jim ignored it. "You told me that you accepted admission to the VSA to prove them wrong, that your human half wasn't a disadvantage."

"That is correct."

"But you've internalized what they said to you your whole life. You outright hate your human half. You honestly hate a part of yourself because you actually think of it as a disadvantage."

"I will not allow you to lecture me about my heritage," Spock said sharply.

"I like when you're human around me," Jim said, turning to face him fully. He gripped Spock's forearms, trying to convey through touch what he was conveying poorly through words. Spock pulled easily from his grasp and stood up. He stormed out of the apartment, his footsteps audible on the staircase, and Jim buried his face in his hands.

"Fuck," he swore and stumbled into his shoes and coat, running out the door after him.

Jim stood on the sidewalk outside the apartment building, looking left and right, wondering which direction Spock might have taken. Maybe he went back toward campus, or maybe he headed a couple blocks east to Nyota's apartment. Jim fished his comm from his pocket, prepared to call her or Admiral Pike, when he spotted a lone figure on the playground across the street.

Spock was seated on the swingset, his hands wrapped around the chains. It swung gently, and he stared at the ground, unblinking.

"I'm sorry," Jim said, stopping a few feet away. The gravel crunched under his boots. "I shouldn't have said that. I don't have any idea what it's been like for you."

"No," Spock said. "You do not."

"Please come back upstairs," Jim said. He reached out a hand, but Spock jerked away from it. Jim held both of his up in the air in submission.

"I won't touch you," he said. "Just please come back inside. It's cold out here."

"I am fine."

"I can see you're shaking," Jim countered. "I'm cold. You must be freezing."

Spock shook his head, so Jim sighed and took the swing next to him.

"Do you want my jacket?" he offered. Spock didn't answer, so Jim took it off and draped it over his back. Spock frowned at him, but Jim said, "It's logical" and Spock slipped his arms through the sleeves. In the trees overhead, roosting birds trilled a chorus which was almost hypnotizing. Jim pushed off the ground and let himself swing back and forth before he spoke again.

"All I meant," Jim said quietly, "is that I really like you — all of you—and it's hard knowing that you don't. It makes me wonder how you can like me."

Spock's chin dropped to his chest, and his swing stilled. He exhaled audibly and extended a hand. Jim took it.

"As a child," Spock began, "I was taunted because of my mixed heritage. The other children frequently made attempts to arouse my human emotions. They invoked racial slurs against my mother and called me inferior. I have been determined to prove them wrong."

His voice was unwavering, but Jim could somehow feel his upset. He squeezed his hand.

"My affection for you is confusing," Spock went on. "I saw it in my elder self's mind. I considered it a weakness, a failure as a Vulcan. I did not desire it. I sought to avoid it. When you came to the embassy, when I was told that I was to stay with you, I would not have gone had I known—"

"My name," Jim finished. "That's why you asked about my eyes."

"Yes," Spock said.

"So they were—the other us, I mean—they were together?"

"For many years."

"Wow," Jim said, grinning at the idea of them middle aged. It was Spock who squeezed his hand this time.

"You are pleased by this," Spock observed. His voice was higher, like he was surprised.

"It's kind of awesome," Jim said, "like we're destined to be together or something. I don't really believe in fate, but it makes me think maybe this can work, even after the ship leaves."

"Five years is not long," Spock said, "relative to a lifetime."

Jim felt a surge of something warm in his chest, and he turned to Spock, biting his lip. He angled the swing so they faced each other. Spock's eyes were searching.

"I want to kiss you," Jim said. "The human way. Okay?"

Spock nodded, and Jim took his face between his hands. Spock's cheeks were warm, and his mouth was slack against Jim's when he pressed their lips together. Jim was about to pull back when Spock leaned toward him and kissed Jim in return, hesitantly, his movements uncertain. Jim slid his hands into Spock's hair as Spock's kisses became more urgent. His hands came to rest on Jim's thighs, and his tongue darted out when his mouth parted. His tongue didn't feel like a human's, a little rougher in texture, and Jim imagined what it would feel like on his body, how it would feel to have Spock push inside him. He shuddered and pulled back, breathing hard, and slid a hand to Spock's shoulder, the other cradling his face.

"Did you get all that?" he asked.

"Yes," Spock said a little breathlessly.

"Are you still confused?"

"Possibly."

"Are you okay with it?"

"I believe I will be."

"Just so you know," Jim said, resting their foreheads together, "as first kisses go, that was one for the records."

ooo ooo ooo

Over the next week, Starfleet Headquarters required Jim's presence for a conference on new security measures and protocol, occupying him for twelve-hour days. He was not in the apartment when Spock arrived home from campus, as he often was. Spock found himself watching clocks as though doing so would cause time to move at a faster rate. This was absurd, as was his observation that doing so, in fact, caused time to seemingly lag. Illogical, he told himself, but there was no mistaking the thud of his heart when Jim arrived home at approximately 1917 hours every night.

Jim sent him occasional messages throughout the day.

oo bored. miss you.

oo my dress uniform wasn't made for sitting

oo when i get home i'm gonna checkmate you so hard

If reading Jim's messages caused Spock's heart rate to accelerate, he did not catalogue by what percentage.

At the conference's culmination, Jim brought home takeout and lay on the couch with his face on Spock's lap.

"I hate bureaucracy," he muttered. Spock lightly stroked the back of his neck. "I got those avocado rolls you like. I felt bad about missing lunch yesterday."

It was not logical that Jim should have attended their regular lunch session, nor was it logical that he should regret this. Spock's pleasure at Jim's words was likely illogical as well. He schooled his features into careful neutrality and merely squeezed Jim's neck lightly in return.

"I'm gonna grab a shower," Jim said. "Meet you in the kitchen."

Spock opened the bag of takeout and divided the rolls between two plates. He poured soy sauce into a small dish and got out two sets of chopsticks. The second place setting caused a thrill of delight through his abdomen. Alone in the kitchen, he did not suppress it.

Jim kissed him before he sat down at the table. He abandoned the chopsticks after two failed attempts to lift a roll with them.

"My hands aren't as talented as yours," he said, winking and picking up a roll with his fingers.

"You do not wish to learn," Spock corrected him.

"Hey, after we're finished eating," Jim said, changing the subject, "I've got a surprise for you. Do you trust me?" Spock nodded. Jim smiled and soaked a roll in too much soy sauce.

Spock did not expect to leave the apartment, so he was caught off guard when Jim brought him a jacket and helped him to put it on.

"It's breezy tonight," he explained. "I figured you'd be more comfortable."

Jim held his hand as they walked. He found it a gratuitous display of emotion, but he reminded himself that he was on Earth, and to Terrans the action was innocent in nature. Jim's thumb overlapped his, fingers curling around the side of Spock's hand, and their palms touched. Four times during their walk, Jim squeezed his hand and glanced to Spock and smiled.

They stopped outside the geology building, and Jim got out his ID and scanned it at the door. The light blinked green twice and went out. He pushed open the door and ushered Spock inside.

"Where are we going?" Spock asked.

"It's a surprise," Jim said and pointed to the staircase. They ascended two floors, to a laboratory Spock knew well. It was where they studied sediments. Jim switched on the lights, and the room illuminated as he led Spock to the row of microscopes and pointed.

"Thought you could show me how these things work," he said. He pulled out a small jar and set it on the counter. "I had your aunt send me some sand from the beach up north."

It was sentimental, but Spock took the jar and unscrewed it with a practiced motion, tapping its contents into a clear shallow dish. He switched on the microscope—a small, bullet-shaped device in a compact stand—and before them in the air, approximately two feet square, it projected an image of the magnified sand. He used a small scriber to move the grains around in the dish, expose ones concealed beneath larger particles. Spock marveled at the colors, the sharp points on each grain which varied greatly in shape: rounded, square, and what Terrans termed heart-shaped.

"Wow," Jim said. "You'd never know there was so much variety. It just looks beige when you're standing on it."

"Indeed," Spock said.

"What's the dark one there?"

"That is a mica chip," Spock said. "This white grain is feldspar. These are quartz." He pointed to the clear grains. "This sand has not traveled far. That is why the grains retain their sharp edges. Though I know it to be true, I can also deduce that the sand is from an aquatic environment."

"How?" Jim said, frowning and tilting his head.

"The surface texture of these grains is smooth," Spock said. "Therefore, the transportation medium was likely water. It protected the grains from damage when they struck one another, retaining their glassy appearance. The sand grains on Vulcan appeared clouded. That is how I know our planet was likely always a desert."

He switched off the microscope, and the image vanished. He took a deep breath before he turned to face Jim. "I am pleased you have expressed an interest in my work," he said.

"This is probably pretty basic to you," Jim said. "But it's neat to see. And, um..."

He reached into his pocket and placed the orange vial on the counter, leaving his hand wrapped around it. He didn't look up. Spock recognized it, the torn label, the small amount of sand inside just visible through the orange plastic.

"I figured out what this was when you wouldn't talk about it."

Spock swallowed as Jim slid the vial toward him.

"Show me," he said.

Spock accessed his central controls to steady the shaking in his hands and tilted the contents of the vial into a second dish. He was careful not to spill a grain, and he tapped the dish on the counter to evenly spread the sand into a single layer. He removed the Terran sample and placed this one on the platform. With a deep breath, he switched on the light, and Vulcan appeared before him.

The sample was unremarkable. The grains of sand were no different than any other grains of sand on Vulcan, silicon dioxide in composition with reddish-orange patches of iron oxide, the color of his home world. The grains varied in size but were evenly shaped, well rounded with no uneven edges, the surfaces lightly pitted from striking one another as the wind swept the sand across Vulcan's vast deserts. Despite it being ordinary, Spock's breath caught in his throat at the sight of it.

"It's beautiful," Jim murmured. He wrapped his arms around Spock from behind and pressed up against him. Spock closed his eyes and felt Jim's chest, his hips, his breath against Spock's neck. "I wish I could have seen it."

ooo ooo ooo

Spock felt warm as they walked home, warmer than he had since arriving on Earth. He held Jim's hand through the front door of the building and into the lift. Jim's mouth was a welcome pressure against his throat. He raised his hands to Jim's back, pressing their chests together, a tightness with which he was now familiar building in his groin. He found he desired to lie in bed with Jim, to remove their clothing, to take pleasure in one another. Jim had a similar desire, because he took Spock by the wrist when the doors slid open and guided him down the hallway. Jim stopped abruptly when he spotted a figure sitting in front of the door.

"Hey," Gary said softly, getting up.

"You've got some nerve showing up here." Jim's voice was low. He did not release Spock's wrist.

"Well, you wouldn't speak to me at the conference, and you won't accept my calls. What do you want me to do?"

"You're not a member of my crew anymore," Jim said firmly. "I have nothing to say to you, Commander."

"Dammit, Jim, just talk to me!"

"I will not allow you to speak to Jim in this manner," Spock said, stepping forward.

Gary narrowed his eyes. "Oh, that's your business, is it?"

"It is," Spock said.

Gary looked between the two of them, at Jim's hand locked around Spock's wrist like a vise. He bobbed his head, then exhaled loudly.

"Well, this was inevitable," he said.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Jim snapped.

"The two of you," Gary said. "I mean, the chess was one thing. I put up with that for a year, the way you'd drop everything when your comm went off. Then I find out he's in your hospital room every goddamned day. Yeah, I called to check up on you every fucking morning. Then you're even sleeping in the same room once you get home. He's taking you out to dinner. You're taking him on road trips up the coast—"

"You're the one who requested the transfer!" Jim spit. "Not me."

"— and then you asked what I thought about making him your science officer. All I could imagine was five years watching the two of you on the bridge." Gary's voice wavered. He looked down at the floor. "I saw Sulu out one night and we got talking. He mentioned that Nogura wanted to give him his own command, so I put in my application. I figured, if it was accepted, that was my answer."

"I don't know what you want me to say." Jim dropped Spock's wrist and folded his arms over his chest. "We could have avoided all of this if you'd just talked to me in the first place."

"I'm just asking for five minutes." Gary took a step nearer Jim. Spock tensed but did not move from where he stood. "That's all."

"Spock," Jim said, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, can you just give us a few?"

Jim's words were like cold water breaking over him. Spock stepped backwards quickly toward the door, feeling for the handle and pressing his thumb to the lock. He opened it without a word and retreated to the bedroom. He must meditate, regain his balance. Jim would not dishonor him, but Spock did not want to hear Gary's voice. He sank to the floor, squeezing his eyes tightly. He drew his hands together and breathed so loudly that he drowned out the voices. His walls came up around him, and he slipped under.

ooo ooo ooo

When Spock emerged from his trance, Jim was seated beside him. His hand rested on Spock's knee. Spock straightened, rolling his shoulders. Jim's head snapped up. He squeezed Spock's thigh and gave him a weak smile.

"Good, you're back," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry about Gary."

"Do not be," Spock said.

"I can't believe he just showed up like that." Jim's hand stilled. "I guess that kind of ruined the evening, huh?"

"It is, in fact, still evening," Spock said. He allowed himself a small smile. Jim leaned forward and kissed him.

"Can we get off the floor?" he asked, nodding to the bed. "I've been sitting here for a half hour. My ass is asleep."

Spock nodded. Jim rose and held out a hand. Spock took it, and as Jim pulled him to his feet, he sensed guilt.

"It is not your fault that Gary came here," Spock tried to reassure him, but the guilt spiked. Spock sat on the bed and held Jim's hands to his chest. Through Jim's skin, Spock felt the sensation of Gary's mouth pressed to his, of unwelcome fingers against his face, curved painfully around his neck. Jim looked away, obviously aware of what he had projected.

"He touched you," Spock said.

"I didn't want him to. I told him to leave."

"I—" Spock began, tilting Jim's head so he could view the reddened skin on his neck. "I feel anger that he touched you."

Jim took a deep breath. "So make us both forget."

With Spock watching him, Jim reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, then unfastened his pants. He stepped out of them and hooked his thumbs on either side of his briefs, pushing them down and kicking them away. Spock felt embarrassed, his cheekbones hot and eyes flickering from Jim's face to his chest and lower.

"You're allowed to look," Jim said. Spock permitted Jim to remove his clothing and lay him back against the sheets, his legs over the side of the bed. Jim kissed his way down Spock's chest, over the sparse dark hair, following the trail that formed at his navel to his groin. Jim licked a stripe along the underside of Spock's scrotum, laughing when Spock gasped and gripped the sheets. Jim placed his hands on Spock's thighs and pushed them apart wider.

"I want you to feel this," Jim said as he dropped between them.

The warmth of Jim's mouth around him was unlike any experience of Spock's life until this point. He heard moans escape his own mouth and fought to control them. When he climaxed, Spock's mouth was open but blessedly mute. His eyes were closed. He'd bitten down so hard on his lip at one point, he drew blood. He could taste the copper. Jim crawled up beside him, covering him with a sheet, and stroked his face until the flushed sensation faded from his chest and face, his heart rate had returned to normal. His eyes fluttered open.

"Good?" Jim asked.

"Yes." Spock's chest was heaving.

"Good," Jim said and kissed him. Spock kept his mouth tightly closed, so Jim nipped at the underside of his jaw instead.

"You consumed my seminal fluid," Spock said, placing an unmoving hand on Jim's back.

"I think it's hot," Jim said and licked the point of Spock's ear. "It turns me on."

"Do you wish for me to reciprocate?"

"Only if you want to," Jim murmured, ghosting a kiss over the hollow of his throat, "or I could jerk off and you can watch me."

Spock's heart thudded in his side at the image Jim projected to him. "You would permit me to observe you?"

Jim kissed him and trailed a hand down his own chest in response, settling back against the pillows and concentrating on Spock's face. He took himself in his hand and moved his thumb over the head, inhaling sharply. Spock's eyes were wide, and his chest heaved as he watched.

"You can touch me if you want," Jim whispered. Spock shuddered and closed his fingers over Jim's hip.

ooo ooo ooo

"You two are so in love, it's disgusting," Nyota observed over a beer. She clinked her glass against Jim's and leaned back in the wooden seat beside Scotty. "But sweet," she added.

Jim grinned through a mouthful of pizza and kissed Spock's cheek sloppily. Nyota shook her head and laughed. Scotty lifted the pitcher and refilled his glass and Jim's. Nyota turned down another. Beneath the table, Jim slid a hand to Spock's inner thigh.

"I can't wait to get you home," Jim whispered into his ear. It was slight, but Jim detected Spock's shiver. He attempted to control it, Jim could tell, but Spock's ears flushed. Jim leaned into his side and heard Spock's breathing quicken, satisfied.

"Jim..." Spock said quietly, straightening.

"I know, I know," Jim whispered. "We're in public." He winked but sat up.

"See what I mean?" Nyota said. "I'm going to need an insulin shot before we're done eating."

"Spock, you're certain there's no way we can convince you to apply for the Enterprise?" Scotty asked. "I could use a brilliant mind like yours."

"I am certain," Spock replied.

"I've tried every form of bribery I know," Jim said. "He turns me down flat every time." He leaned forward with both elbows on the table. Nyota shot him a dirty look. He rolled his eyes but dropped his hands into his lap.

"Where's Len?" Nyota asked.

"Where do you think?" Jim replied.

"I don't understand why they're not engaged yet," Nyota said. "It's been what, three years? He practically lives at her place."

"He didn't exactly have a great experience the first time around," Jim reminded her.

"I guess," she said.

"So are you two going to file the official 'we're Starfleet and we're dating' paperwork?" he asked, gesturing between her and Scotty. "You know what those official regulations say."

"Oh, like how you and Gary—" Nyota started, then bit off the rest of her sentence. Jim held his breath for a second. She looked down, wiped her mouth on her napkin. "Sorry. Yes, I'll probably fill out my portion tomorrow and send it to you."

Jim was still thinking about her words when they got home. Spock remained close at his side but didn't touch him. He supposed Spock was thinking about Gary, too. It was funny. He'd been at the forefront of Jim's mind every day for months, until the day he just wasn't there anymore. Now he was on both of their minds, and Jim didn't know how to shake him.

Without speaking, he hung up their jackets, and Spock went into the kitchen to replicate the usual drinks for chess. Jim leaned in the doorway and watched him. Spock's back was to him. Jim looked at the pale skin of his neck disappearing into his sweater, how his arms hung politely at his sides, the straight line of his back. Jim couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face.

"You know I love you, right?" he blurted.

Spock's head whipped around. His eyes were wide. He opened his mouth like he might speak, but no words came out.

"Well, I do," Jim said as Spock walked forward and embraced him. "Just so you know."

ooo ooo ooo

Pike opened the door in an apron that read "Kiss the cook."

"I've been recruited for kitchen duty," he said, ushering them inside. "Can I get either of you a beer?"

"I'll take one," Jim said. He turned to Spock. "What do you want? Water?"

"Yes," Spock said.

"I'll grab it," Jim said, squeezing his shoulder. "I want to say hi to Number One, offer her my legendary cooking skills."

"He knows how to cook?" Pike asked as Jim disappeared into the kitchen.

"So he claims," Spock replied. "He is adept with a replicator."

"Well, come on in. Guess I'm off duty with Jim in the kitchen." Pike removed the apron and sat down. He motioned to the couch. "There are a few things I want to talk about."

Spock removed his coat and laid it on the couch beside him.

"Nice scarf," Pike commented. Spock reached up to it, closing his hand around the soft black wool. Jim had given it to him to commemorate his graduation from the Academy. "Looks warm."

"It was a gift," Spock said.

"Oh?" Pike leaned back in his armchair. "From someone special?"

"Indeed," Spock answered. He could feel his face color.

"Anyone I know?"

Jim returned with Spock's water, setting it on the coffee table and kissing his cheek.

"Number One has me chopping onions," he said. "You okay?"

"Yes," Spock replied, and Jim went back into the kitchen.

"Huh," Pike said, regarding him. He took a long sip of his beer. "Have to say, I didn't see that one coming."

"It was...unexpected," Spock said finally.

"Well, I'm happy for you. Both of you." Pike leaned forward, clasping both hands around the bottle. "What are you going to do when he leaves?"

"I have put in applications to bases on Edo and Tellar Prime, as you know." The Edosians were free with emotion, but the planet was almost entirely devoid of crime.

"I know what you have in mind professionally," Pike said. "I meant, do you have any plans for the future?"

Spock regarded him blankly.

"With Jim," Pike prompted.

"We have no plans for formal commitments."

"That's a shame," Pike said with a shake of his head. "I always wanted to give someone away at the altar."

Spock sipped from his glass. It was room temperature. Jim had left out the ice as a consideration. Pike's smile faded, and he cleared his throat.

"Look, Spock," Pike began, rubbing his knee. "I don't know how to tell you this, other than to come out and tell you." He cleared his throat. "Due to your exceptional performance at the academy, your final test scores, Starfleet is unwilling to assign you to a base. They want to assign you to the Hypatia."

There had been no promise of a base assignment, but he had been assured that as a Vulcan survivor, his requests would be given more weight than a typical graduate's. He could appeal on the grounds of emotional distress, but to do so...

An unwelcome anger surged within Spock, but outwardly he revealed nothing.

"Now, because I know you," Pike continued, "I asked if I could be the one who broke the news. I tried to appeal on your behalf, but it was denied. Unfortunately, this is the downfall of working for the military."

Spock clenched his jaw. He had selected bases conducting critical research into planetary stability and the use of cold fusion to control planet-threatening volcanos. Surely that knowledge was as important as any he would gain on a five-year mission. He balled his hands into fists but did not respond.

"They want you as chief science officer. But frankly, I'd rather see you serve with Jim than be assigned to the ship Nogura picks for you," Pike was saying. "I just wish it could be your decision. I think you belong on a starship. Why are you so against it?"

Jim asked him this often, but Spock never gave a full answer. He often fantasized about life aboard a starship, about serving with Jim, about visiting exotic planets and having access to minerals so rare he had only read sparse descriptions of their qualities. Yet...he had survived the loss of his planet. Soon, he would lose Earth as well. Vulcan's last moments had passed while Spock stood on the Enterprise. Would there ever be a time when Vulcan was not conjured by an orange planet on the viewscreen, or by the ship achieving warp?

A Vulcan should not act out of fear, yet Spock could not stomach the idea of living in space. Now he was being forced there.

"I believe I would find a base assignment professionally satisfying," was all he said.

Pike nodded slowly, resting his chin on his hand, eyebrows knitting together as he stared at the unlit fireplace. He appeared deep in thought. He looked back to Spock and cocked his head.

"You know," he said, lowering his voice, "there are regulations with regards to bonded pairs. Terran marriages like mine, there's no guaranteeing we'll be assigned to the same ship—hell, even the same quadrant. But Starfleet gives special consideration to telepathic species."

Spock stared at him.

"I know you two aren't planning anything just yet, but promise me you'll at least think about it."

Though he did not answer, Spock nodded slowly.

"Oh, and if anyone asks?" Pike added. "You didn't hear this last part from me."

ooo ooo ooo

Spock was quiet on the walk home, though he allowed Jim to hold his hand. With the other, he occasionally touched the scarf at his neck as he mulled over what Pike had told him. Once again, he was faced with a decision he was reluctant to make. Inability to decide would see him on USS Hypatia. Starfleet was within its rights to assign him to the ship. He was within his rights to challenge—a psychologist would surely agree — but he would not shame himself with such a report in his record. He must accept Starfleet's decision and leave with the crew on December 1, or do as Pike suggested.

Pike's suggestion was logical, but Spock realized that he no longer wished to bond merely because of logic. He clasped Jim's hand tighter, assured by the affection Jim radiated. If they bonded—when they bonded, for Spock did not wish to envision a future that did not include Jim—it would be because they both wished it. Spock was, uncharacteristically, uncertain when Jim had become a permanent fixture in his life, but he had come to realize he never wished to be parted from him. It would be wrong to create a bond in this manner, yet his adrenaline and dopamine levels were heightened by the thought of touching Jim's mind, of connecting it to his own.

He shivered, and Jim looked at him with a grin, the absence of which Spock knew he would deeply regret.

"So are you going to tell me what Pike said to you?" Jim asked as they got ready for bed.

"He said several things to me," Spock replied. "To which are you referring?"

"Your sass is cute sometimes, but right now, you're just being evasive." Jim sighed and switched off the light before he crawled into bed. Spock remained upright, the sheet pulled to his waist, and studied his hands in the glow from the alarm clock. Jim had touched them eight times today. Spock would miss his touch when they were separated.

"Starfleet has assigned me to the Hypatia," he said.

"What?" Jim said, gripping Spock's arm.

"They believe my skills would be better utilized aboard a starship."

"Jesus," Jim said, leaning back against the headboard. He covered his mouth and heaved a sigh. "I've been trying to talk you onto my ship for almost a year, and they get you on board in an evening."

"This is not my desire," Spock said. "I have no wish to serve with—" His mouth would not form the name.

"He'll be a good first officer," Jim said quietly. "He keeps his personal life off of the bridge. You won't have any problems with him. Sulu would never allow it."

Jim flopped back on the bed, covering his face with his arms.

"God, this sucks. If they were going to force you on a ship, why couldn't they put you on the Enterprise? Did Pike say if you've got a choice?"

"I do not," Spock said.

"I thought we'd have another couple months together, at least. The ship's leaving in, what, twelve days?"

"Yes."

"I doubt you'd be willing to go AWOL, and I'm not willing to give up my command, otherwise we could run away to New Vulcan or something." Jim laughed, but Spock could discern from Jim's tone that it was insincere.

Spock considered this, frowning and aligning his thumbs so they were parallel. The fingernail on his left hand was longer by one millimeter. He closed his eyes and attempted to focus on his breathing, but this failed to calm him. Pike's suggestion was foremost in his mind.

"There—" Spock began, swallowing with what he knew to be nervousness. His hands shook. He clenched them together more tightly. "There is an alternative."

"What is it?"

"Admiral Pike suggested that we...bond." He said the final word so quietly, even he barely heard it.

Jim touched his elbow. "That we what?"

Spock took a deep breath. "Bond," he repeated.

"Bond as in...bond? Like a soul bond?"

"It would be a preliminary bond," Spock corrected, refusing to look up, "were one to exist."

"How is this an alternative?"

"Starfleet does not separate bonded pairs."

"So, we'd sort of be...engaged?"

"It is somewhat more than a betrothal," Spock answered carefully, "yet less than a marriage."

"And they'd have to let you serve on the Enterprise?"

"That is my understanding."

"Then yes," Jim said immediately.

"I did not ask a question."

"I accept anyway."

Spock shook his head. "I have yet to describe the process through which the bond is formed, and what you are likely to experience being bonded to a Vulcan. It would be unfair—"

"Yes," Jim said again, with more insistence. He tilted Spock's chin up and looked him in the eye. Jim's were shining.

"This is not something we should enter into lightly."

"I love you."

"There are things we do not speak of, of which you must be aware if we were to—"

"Let's look at the facts," Jim interrupted, taking Spock's hands. Jim was...happy. "We do this, and you get to come with me on the Enterprise for five years. They can't separate us. Right?"

"I do not believe so."

"Would you rather serve on the Hypatia?"

"I would not."

"Are you planning to break up with me?"

"No." Spock squeezed Jim's hands and turned toward him.

"Well, I'm not planning to break up with you either. So, you know, we might as well do this."

"I—" Spock tried, but Jim cut him off excitedly.

"It's even logical," Jim said, scooting closer so their knees touched. "Uhura's not thrilled about being my XO, and I can't get Scotty on the bridge. Maybe in a year or two, they'll let me promote you. You could do double duty! Think of how kickass this would make us as a command team. I mean, our minds will be connected, right?"

"We have never melded. I can only surmise that our minds will be compatible." Spock smoothed a thumb over Jim's second finger, but Jim's face fell.

"Don't you want to bond with me?" Jim asked as uncertainty seeped through their hands. "It's important to you—to your species, I mean. Isn't it?"

"It is," Spock admitted.

"I want to bond with you. I mean, if you want to."

At Jim's words, Spock closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Jim," Spock said, "It is not that I do not wish it. However, with the Vulcan elders gone, the essence of my culture is lost. With it has been lost our most adept healers. I am uncertain whether any survive who are capable of severing—"

He could not say it. Once linked to Jim, Spock knew he would never wish to let him go. It was imperative that Jim understand. Tightening his grip on Jim's hands, he dared to look up at him.

"Once forged," Spock said, "a bond is not easily broken."

"I'm not doing this just to get you on my ship," Jim said gently. "I wouldn't agree to this if I didn't want it."

"You do not feel it is wrong?"

"Spock, people get married for stupid reasons every day on Vega5. This is a good reason. Okay?"

From the recesses of his mind surfaced a memory: his elder self and an elder version of Jim in dress uniform, turned toward one another, their palms touching. He felt the echo of a bond forming, a rush of love direct to his brain, the presence of another mind in his—not as T'Pring's had felt, but welcome and cherished. Bondmates. He had not intended to ask this of Jim so soon. The circumstances were not ideal, but that did not decrease Spock's desire.

"Yes," he agreed.

"Yes," Jim repeated and leaned forward to kiss him.

ooo ooo ooo

As on many other nights, Jim projected an image of their bodies connected. Spock knew Jim wished it. He groaned and bit Jim's neck. The joining of their bodies was slow. Spock paused at every hitch in Jim's breath. Jim clutched at his shoulders, digging in his fingernails and dragging them along Spock's back as encouragement. The tight heat was utterly unlike Jim's mouth. Spock gasped when Jim clenched around him.

"Oh, god," Jim moaned, "you feel incredible. Is this okay? Are you okay, sweetheart?"

The word made Spock shudder. He mouthed Jim's throat, scraping teeth along his Adam's apple. Spock held Jim tightly in his arms and saw bright blue when he came. They showered afterwards. Jim wrapped his arms around Spock's neck and kissed him lazily, sweetly beneath the steady stream of water.

"We need to do that more often," Jim smiled against his lips. "Like every day."

"That would be satisfactory."

"I know the captain of the Enterprise," Jim said. "Pretty sure I can get us adjoining cabins."

"Oh?"

"They even come with shared baths, so we can shower together and, you know. Conserve resources." Jim kissed him again. His lips were wet, so Spock licked them. "So, when are we doing this thing?"

ooo ooo ooo

At seven years of age, Spock proudly entered the Kurat temple with his parents. T'Pring and her family waited for him. They knelt before T'Pau, who would assist in forming the bond, as they were both children. She pressed a steady hand to his face, her other to T'Pring's, and began to speak. Spock became aware of two additional minds in his. When T'Pau's hand came away, T'Pring's presence remained.

Spock did not require assistance this time. He and Jim had agreed upon late Friday afternoon, when McCoy was sure to be away, and Jim had no meetings scheduled. They switched off their comms, engaged the privacy lock on the front door, and drew the curtains.

They sat cross-legged on the bed, their knees touching. The apartment was quiet, though Spock could make out the sounds of traffic and pedestrians outside. Jim's heart rate was elevated, his breathing heavy. When Spock took his hands, they were damp with perspiration, but he projected only excitement. He brought Jim's hands to his lips and kissed them, then held them in his left hand. With his right, he began a careful exploration of Jim's face: his forehead, the slope of his nose, his rounded ear. Jim's eyes were open when Spock pressed fingers to his meld points. He had never initiated a meld outside of formal training.

Jim's mind was open to him, a vast stretch of space. Because Jim was human, Spock had expected his mind to be disordered, even disorienting in its arrangement, but Spock looked around him and saw beauty. He glimpsed a weather-worn farmhouse, sun-baked fields swaying in the breeze, an old-fashioned Terran automobile, and Jim. He stood looking up to the blue sky crisscrossed by wisps of clouds. Spock placed a hand on his shoulder.

Spock?

Yes.

This is...kinda weird, but neat. Can you see all my memories and stuff?

Do you wish me to?

Yes. I mean, you're always going to be in my head, right?

In a sense.

How does this work, exactly? Do I need to do anything?

Allow your mind to remain open to me.

You got it.

Jim settled against him, and the landscape began to fade. Overhead, the sky darkened until stars were visible. Jim's mind lurched forward, and—

They stood outside sickbay. Spock saw himself as Jim had seen him, bent over and trembling, felt Jim's concern as he placed hands on Spock's back and guided him into the fresher.

This is my first memory of you.

He sensed Jim's concern, the urge to reach out and offer comfort, the aborted move of his hand toward Spock's shoulder. Spock blinked, and —

They stood on his aunt's front porch. She had Jim in her embrace and whispered into his ear. "I'm so glad he found you. Take care of each other." Jim nodded and agreed. He did not correct her. "We will." The aircar moved swiftly as they drove south. Through Jim's eyes, Spock looked sad. Jim debated whether it would be appropriate to embrace him, and—

Jim's vision was blurred, his surroundings hazy. A woman pressed up against his side, but he could not remember her name. Spock watched him stumble and catch himself on her shoulder as he looked to the kitchen where Spock no longer stood. He was alone, despite the hand on his leg. His head swam with alcohol, and—

Golden Gate Park appeared before them. Jim stared up at Spock from where he lay on the blanket. Spock's attention was on the music, and he did not realize Jim was watching him. Spock sensed his loneliness, his longing, his naked hope when Spock aligned their hands. Peals of Jim's mental laughter filled his ears.

I thought it was just me.

No, Jim.

Jim turned toward Spock and clasped his hands. On all sides, Jim's mind exploded in vibrant colors: the blues and greens of Earth, the reds of Vulcan. They grew in intensity, becoming blinding, until the light enveloped them both. Spock drew Jim close so their foreheads pressed together.

Spock.

Jim, t'hy'la, I claim thee.

ooo ooo ooo

"I can't believe you stole my science officer," Sulu said, knocking his beer against Jim's. The senior crew of the Hypatia was gathered at a bar just off base. Launch was in three days.

"I married your science officer," Jim corrected him, glancing across the room to where Spock stood talking to Number One. He sent him a mental wink and felt a brush of affection in return. "Sort of."

"I'm just lucky we were able to get a replacement so quickly."

"Who'd they end up assigning you?" Jim asked.

"Marcus," Sulu said, pointing to where Carol stood laughing with Nyota and Christine.

"She's good, and I bet your XO is happier with the arrangement," Jim said, taking a swig. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and looked down the bar, where Gary sat talking with Olson.

"Probably," Sulu agreed. "You look really happy, man."

"Thanks," Jim said, not bothering to conceal his smile.

"Bet the admiralty isn't too thrilled. What did Pike say?"

Jim shook his head. "That we'd better have a reception and invite him."

"Nice," Sulu said. "So you're picking up the tab tonight?"

"Funny."

The crowd thinned as midnight approached. A lot of the crew had gone home for their last good night's rest on earth before the first wave of transports left in the morning. It wasn't the alcohol that made him approach Gary, just something within Jim that felt it was right. He pressed a kiss to Spock's hand and walked to the far end of the bar.

"Hey," he said, falling into the stool next to him.

"Hey," Gary replied, not looking up from his beer.

"Congratulations on your assignment."

"You too." Gary glanced at him sideways then back at the bar. "I hear additional congratulations are in order."

"You heard right," Jim said, folding his hands in front of him. Gary was silent for a pause before his mouth slid into a grin.

"Well, at least I got a hot science officer out of it," he said.

"I figured you'd approve."

Gary fingered the edge of his glass, tilting it so the beer sloshed close to the edge. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said. Jim swallowed and looked away.

"Me either," he said finally.

"Keep in touch, okay?"

Jim hesitated, then reached out and clasped his shoulder. "I will."

Gary sniffed and wiped his eyes.

"Pre-mission jitters," he said.

"I know," Jim said. He stood and pulled Gary into a hug. "Take care of yourself."

"Yeah, you too."

Gary clapped his back, smiled, and left without finishing his drink. Jim watched him go. It was bittersweet, and for a moment he could only stare at the door. He heaved a breath and exhaled. He wondered if Gary would keep in contact, if they would go another two years before they spoke again. He'd always care about Gary, he supposed, and yet seeing him walk away was somehow cathartic.

He felt a brush against his mind, a wave of affection. Turning, he walked back across the bar to where Spock stood waiting for him, hand outstretched.

ooo ooo ooo

2260

"All moorings are clear, captain."

Spock clutched the edge of his console with both hands. The Enterprise floated free, and his stomach twisted. He clapped a hand over his mouth and rose, hastening toward the fresher just off of the bridge. Nyota turned to look at him as he went, mouthing his name when he turned to her. He closed his eyes and walked faster, pushing a yeoman aside without a second thought.

The nausea rose, and he could feel his esophageal muscles begin to churn in reverse. For the third time on this ship, he knelt and was sick. His face was hot, his body shaking.

He was leaning over the sink, splashing cool water on the back of his neck, when he heard the click that signalled the door unlocking. Only two people on the bridge crew had the authority to override his personal code. Jim's hands came to rest at his waist.

"Hey," he murmured. His fingers kneaded Spock's lower back. Spock wiped his mouth and stood up.

"I apologize for my lapse in control, Captain," he said. "It will not happen again."

"Spock..." Jim said, taking his hands and turning him so they faced one another. Spock focused on the captain's stripes encircling Jim's wrists.

"We should continue the departure procedure."

"I don't give a damn about procedure right now," Jim said. "Chekov's got her. Are you okay?"

"I am fine."

"See, that's the thing about these mental bonds," Jim said gently. "I can tell when you're lying."

"Vulcans do not lie," Spock said lamely.

"I should have known this would be hard for you."

Spock averted his gaze and felt his cheeks flush again.

"I am ready to resume my post," he said evenly.

"I'm not speaking to you as your captain right now." Jim raised Spock's hands to his mouth. "It's good that you're thinking about them. You should."

Spock bowed his head as Jim kissed his knuckles, one by one.

"I know it goes against protocol," he continued, his lips warm against Spock's skin, "but I want you next to me when we go to warp."

"Jim—"

"You'll sit in my chair. I'll stand behind you. No one is going to question it," Jim said firmly. He cupped Spock's jaw and tilted his face down until their eyes locked. "Okay?"

"Yes, Captain."

"And afterwards," Jim said, "I'm going to turn over the conn to Nyota, and you and I are going to my quarters."

"For what purpose?"

"To make sure that double bed was installed as ordered," Jim said with a roll of his eyes.

Giving him a confused look, Spock said, "Mr. Scott assured me it was installed last week."

Jim grinned and shook his head. "Would you rather meld on the bridge?" he asked. Spock pulled Jim into his arms and held him tightly.

ooo ooo ooo

Jim stood proudly at the center of his bridge, hands firmly gripping Spock's shoulders. He lifted his chin and with a bob of his head to the helmsman, gave the order.

"Punch it."

The ship lurched beneath him. He squeezed tightly and felt the steady presence of Spock in his mind as, on the view screen, the stars streaked past.