"And here, Admiralty, is your princess."

Kirk wasted no time in handing the shivering girl over, her long hair and robes trailing over his skin as she passed from one set of arms to the next.

From the moment they'd entered orbit around En'the, a shimmering orange planet on the outskirts of the Neranthu Galaxy, the indigenous people had been in a uproar. The heir to their throne (though she was a mere seven years old) had been kidnapped. A sobbing and hysteric woman had greeted Captain Kirk over the comm, accusatory towards him and the entirety of the Federation. It seemed the culprits were a local band of pirates who, upon hearing that the Federation were sniffing around in hopes of adding En'the to the folds of their organization, had taken it upon themselves to influence the matriarchy against any and all such actions. Needless to say, Kirk was forced to take action.

The mission had consisted merely of the Captain and his First Officer. One beam down, a few scrapes and bruises, and two hours later, they'd returned to the capital city victorious. Now, Kirk gave the locals one last winning smile and promised to return on the morrow to discuss their joining of the Federation before flicking open his communicator and requesting a beam back aboard.

They'd barely materialized before James was laughing full heartedly, lips spread wide in an easy grin. "And here Pike thought they'd be tight asses about the whole ordeal! We haven't even been here an entire day and they're already begging to sign the paperwork." Then, of course, he lifted his arm in what was the universal sign for a high five to Spock.

Spock, looking somewhere between confused, amused, and having no expression at all, merely raised an eyebrow.

It took several seconds too long from Jim to realize just what he'd done wrong, and several more seconds to drop his hand back to his side, rather red in the face and spluttering lightly. After all, Vulcans didn't have high fives for a reason. Hand to hand contact was extremely intimate for touch telepathy.

"Shit, sorry Spock, cultural-"

Without missing a beat, the First Officer interrupted Kirk smoothly. "Captain, if you desired a kiss, all you need do was ask."

More blushing, more spluttering. "No, no that's not what I was..." several things visibly clicked into place in Jim Kirk's mind. "What?"

Spock, as if speaking to a child, intoned slowly, "I said, if you desired a kiss, all you had to do was ask for one." He was sure the puzzle was filling itself in by the dawning look on his Captain's face.
"Uh...okay."

"Okay what, Jim? Okay, you desire a kiss?"

"Um, yeah, that."

Spock held out his hand expectantly, the other tucked respectfully behind his back until Kirk gave him his own, palm down on palm. He watched, dark eyes bright, as he twisted his wrist until their hands were vertical, still palm to palm, and he could curl all but his first two fingers in. Jim mirrored the movement, also watching the contact with an intensity usually reserved for the bridge when they were under fire.

"And that," Spock murmured, lifting his gaze, "is a proper Vulcan kiss."

Meanwhile, the red shirt ensign who was manning the transporter continued in his quest to slip quietly from the room without being noticed by either of his superior officers and possibly flayed for ruining their very intimate moment.