A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus!

Chapter 003

When he woke up feeling like shit, he could almost believe he'd gone back in time to his days of crashing in Ben's apartment. He hadn't been this hung-over in years.

Ben Finney had found God, but before that he'd been a fervent worshipper at the sanctuary between Kirk's legs. Half the things they'd gotten into had made Kirk want to praise the heavens. Ben's chanting of his name, thick and breathless, was usually loud enough it could have served as a call to communion for their unfortunate neighbors; paper-thin apartment walls and everything.

But their fling had been years ago. Kirk had decided not hold a grudge over Ben for leaving him. He'd gone off in search of a godly life and found the heteronormativity he craved so badly, marrying a woman he liked well enough but hardly put out for. And even after they had parted ways for different sectors, they'd kept in touch as friends; hell, Ben had even named his kid after him.

For better or worse, Ben had chosen his life. He'd tried to teach Kirk a lesson about fate after their breakup, but unfortunately, the only thing Kirk had gotten out of Ben's fumbled explanations was sacrilegious anger at God for taking another person Kirk loved. He could never find the faith Ben had.

Still, he had to admit, Jamie Finney was absolutely adorable. He even had pictures and pretended that she was his, which wasn't too far off the mark considering how much he tried to be involved in her life.

The breakup and subsequent rebound of Ben's first serious relationship had produced a spitfire three-year-old who hated socks and got everything she wanted by widening her big brown eyes and tossing her thick blond curls. Ben had been positive she'd inherited her attitude from Jim and Jim alone. Fatherhood suited Ben in how wild partying never had. But man, did they have some wild parties.

That was why, when Kirk woke up on a very nice couch that definitely wasn't his and his bloodshot blue eyes latched onto thin legs and narrow hips just begging to be held, for one confusing moment, he had thought it was Ben.

The reality of his situation came crashing down as Kirk found his breath stolen by the vacuum of Spock's superbly judgmental, dark gaze. They bore no resemblance to his old flame's serene green eyes. Wonderful.

There wasn't anything worse than waking up in a coworker's apartment, especially one you barely even knew. Even worse, James was fuzzy on the details of the previous night and had no idea what to fucking do now. He could guess from Spock's glare that sex had not happened, sooo... Spock just… took him to his place and let him sleep the hangover off? Or, at least tried to. That was beyond strange.

They weren't friends. Hell, they couldn't even get on as mutual acquaintances. Something must have happened during Kirk's drunken exploration beyond Mackenzie's parking lot that warranted the mixed signals. What the hell was he was doing in Spock's apartment in the first place?

Spock could have simply not known what to do and just picked Kirk up like some kind of stray puppy. That was the best scenario Kirk could come up withthrough his pounding headache, and just as he thought of it, his intestines took him on a roller coaster ride with lots of loops and corkscrews.

When Kirk tossed the tastefully patterned duvet aside to double over in pain and groan, Spock paused in the midst of knotting his tie and assessed him from a safe distance. Oh God, had he puked on Spock? He thought he might have. Even better day. He clutched his stomach and tried desperately to hold in the bit of bile left in his stomach. Beautiful. Great first impression.

"You seem to experience a 'hangover'," Spock said, sounding like he was assessing an experiment that had produced an unexpected result. "Fascinating."

"They don't have hangovers in Kurdistan?" Kirk asked miserably, his voice sounding as if he'd swallowed a belt sander while it was on. Ugh.

"Perhaps," Spock conceded. His dark eyes glittered in a way that implied Kurdish alcoholics handled their liquor much more gracefully than silly Americans.

Kirk could only stare in bewilderment, wondering what the fuck, how the fuck, and why the fuck, before a wave of nausea hit him at the same time as his brain horse-kicked his skull. He scrambled off the couch to find the bathroom and ended up spending the better part of an hour getting more acquainted with Spock's toilet than with its owner.

After that embarrassing display, Kirk had to swallow his pride and apologize for the necessity of Spock's forced hospitality. Apparently he had vomited on one of Spock's treasured antique vases. Well, it was better than vomiting on Spock, he supposed. Still.

Spock seemed especially salty about that, but still offered Kirk some water and aspirin like a champ to ease the symptoms before heading to work.

And, as if to rub salt in the wound, Spock had been to and from the dry cleaner's before Kirk had even opened his bloodshot eyes. He'd made sure Kirk's suit was ready to go, just so Jim didn't have to worry about failing to meet the dress code. Spock seemed to be trying to piss him off by being wonderfully perfect and smug about it. How… FBI like.

To make the situation even worse, Spock stopped for coffee on the way to work. And paid. And it was all wrong to Jim because he was from the American "James Bond" Division, and he was the one supposed to act like the suave alpha dog and buy coffee for the cute tech. Caffè Americano, shaken not stirred!

In the Starbucks restroom, he made a note to self to be sure to dodge his next psychological evaluation before continuing to wash the humiliation off of his face, and bemoaned fate's shitty relationship with him.

There was a stuffy accountant sending him odd glances now and then. When Kirk turned to glare at him, he zipped up and left the bathroom without going near the sinks. "Ho-kay…" Kirk murmured, finally looking at himself in the mirror to see what had freaked out the guy.

If he were honest with himself, he didn't look his best. There were faint traces of red around his eyes, which made their ice blue color stand out even more. Though they were slowly fading to gray the more he continued to age, his eye color was still one of the main features of James Kirk that people complimented.

His once bright blond hair had darkened with sun and age, but a few lighter roots stubbornly refused to surrender. The result was a rather striking mix of warm colors. At least he hadn't turned completely gray. Yet.

Getting old and ending up looking like Pike kind of horrified him. Kirk wanted to remain youthful, virile, and desirable forever. So did everyone else. Age was a great equalizer.

He would be thirty going on three hundred if he continued abusing himself like this.

Wincing at the stubble growing along his jaw, he dashed water over his face and hair once more and tried styling it with his fingers, if only so he didn't look like a hobo standing next to Spock. The only way it would part was to one side and the resemblance he suddenly held to Pike was not welcome.

Kirk gave up and returned from the restroom to find Spock waiting with hot black coffee, spiked with probably too much sugar, but none of that hippie soy milk shot shit. Spock's dark hair was perfectly styled and his smooth, pale face complemented his impeccable suit. If some people were taking glances at Jim's rough-and-tumble style, a lot more were stopping to stare blatantly at Spock. A few sleepy blinks later, after they'd probably tried to place him as some celebrity, they'd continue their morose pre-caffeine zombie-like shuffling to whatever undoubtedly mind-numbing jobs they held.

They had reason to stare. Kirk kept being reminded that despite his irritation with the other agent, Spock was genuinely gorgeous. Hot. The cat's pajamas. Kirk seemed to have suddenly ended up in a fifties drama featuring the embodiment of the white collar worker: immaculate, hard-working, and too fucking perfect. The thought made his blood boil. It affected him in ways he hadn't felt since those horrible hormonal high school years.

But Spock was more than just that. He was a Westernized, perfectly-dressed Kurdish man willingly holding Starbucks coffee cups. That was kind of hot in a self-deluding hail-to-almighty America kind of way. It wasn't politically correct, but then again, Kirk wasn't running for the presidency so who gave a shit?

When Spock opened his mouth, the fantasy collapsed. "Are you in full control of your mental faculties, Agent Kirk?" That made Kirk all-too-aware of how foreign Spock truly was. Mental faculties? Who said that outside of an encyclopedia?

Spock's intonation did not contain a trace of colloquialism, either, Jim realized. Most everyone had some quirk to their speech; hell, Gary was a blue-blooded American and even he took liberties with his mechanics at times. And people like Scotty, whose first language wasn't English and his thick accent could be heard in their speech patterns. Spock sounded exactly like a natural-language robot, cold and neutral.

He wondered if Spock sounded different when he spoke Kurdish. Did he have a peculiar inflection? Did that deep voice roll his R's or purr out inside jokes only the locals could understand?

Thoughts like this served to fuel Kirk's kind-of-no-way attraction to Spock if only because of the exotic and forbidden element to them.

Maybe he was more hungover than he'd thought.

But now Spock was staring at him and waiting for a response, so Jim took the higher ground and politely accepted the offered drink without lip. Unless Spock had some kind of magical telepathy, he should be safe from being fired thanks to his dirty mind. "I'm good, Spock. Thanks."

"You are welcome, Agent Kirk."

"Look," Kirk began as soon as they shut the car doors. "I didn't… do anything stupid to you last night, did I? Because if I did, I apologize."

Spock raised an eyebrow at him, halfway through putting his seatbelt on. "Please elaborate on your definition of 'anything stupid.'"

If Spock didn't sound so curious, Kirk would have been sure that was a veiled insult. "You know… fooled around. Got touchy. Maybe you didn't like it?"

"Ah, I see," Spock answered in a thoughtful tone and turned on the engine. "So it is not typical for you to be excessively libidinous?"

Kirk sputtered. "Excessively what…?!" There was no deity in the galaxy that could help him now if he'd molested the CIA's golden boy. His old pastor would be disappointed. Or pissed off. Or horrified. How would you even confess to an old Calvinist that you molested a male, probably Muslim, spy? There weren't enough Hail Marys in the universe.

"Libidinous," Spock confirmed, his tone serene, but his eyes glimmered with something akin to smugness. "I am certain you understand the meaning of the word, and that your shock is due to alcohol-related amnesia. You seemed to find my neck to be an object of fascination during our interactions. And, I confess, I found your ministrations... excessive."

Kirk shivered despite himself, and suddenly found his voice weak once again. "You're lying."

"It is dishonorable to lie," Spock replied matter-of-factly. "If you do not yet believe the validity of my claims, I will elaborate further. For example, you have a tendency to use aggressive sexual wordplay and seemed greatly fixated on oral stimulation..."

Flinching, Kirk groaned in embarrassment and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Goddammit, Spock..."

"You also seemed to fetishize my posterior. You seized it six times."

Kirk slid further down his seat in defeat, hand cupping his face to hide the burning in his cheeks. "Shit, Spock. That was inappropriate."

"Agreed."

"Why didn't you just kick my ass and leave me in a gutter somewhere?" Weren't guys like him supposed to lynch people like Kirk for male-on-male frisking? He was sure he wouldn't have gotten away with it wherever Spock was originally from. Stoning came to mind.

Spock considered his comment, eyes fixed on the road. "As you are my coworker and now partner on this case, I felt it would be logical to let your inebriation run its course."

"Fuck's sake, Spock," Kirk groaned, clenching the sides of his seat with white knuckles. "That's sexual misconduct, harassment even! You've got every right to put me on file for that. Hell, you could have even had me arrested for it."

"Fascinating," Spock said dryly. "I had not expected you to take full responsibility for your actions."

"Get in line," Kirk replied bitterly, downright horrified and angry at himself for going too far. "Where I come from, if a man fucks up, he has to own up. What I did was inexcusable, and I apologize, Spock. I'm sorry."

He felt even more sick than ever, his stomach back on the roller coaster with the speed turned up. This had been a major fuck up, and not even Pike could save him now. He wouldn't deserve it even if Pike had the power.

Jim sat in the expensive car and internally curled into himself with misery. He'd have to clear out his desk and give up his badge. Hell, he might even end up on a sex offender list or in jail. His life was officially over.

Spock pulled to a stop at a red light and turned to look at Jim with something akin to pity in his eyes. Kirk supposed he cut a particularly pathetic figure, dull eyes and slouch and all. "I am well-versed in self-defense and four different kinds of martial arts, including an intermediate course in MMA," he began.

Kirk met his eyes but found himself unable to process what Spock was going on about, seeing as he was envisioning his life as some kind of registered sex offender working at McDonalds. Not that McDonald's would hire him since kids went there. He'd be lucky to end up at a Wal-Mart. "That's nice," he said bitterly.

Spock closed his eyes in a way that made him look like he was sighing, even though his breath didn't change. "If I believed the contact unwelcome or threatening to my wellbeing, I could have easily subdued you before it went too far. Especially considering your intoxication."

The rollercoaster in Jim's gut seemed to slow down. He unconsciously licked his lips. "I didn't…?"

Spock seemed to understand and tilted his head. "No, you did not. The expression I was trying to convey for your benefit is compassion. Your actions were inappropriate, but not hostile. After we were securely in my apartment, you kept your hands to yourself and did not pursue me further."

Kirk let out a sigh he didn't realize he was holding. "That's a relief. A big one."

"I'm sure it is," Spock said stiffly, and much to Kirk's puzzlement, he seemed annoyed with Kirk's answer. "As for apologizing, it is unnecessary. We both made mistakes last night. It would be appropriate to call it even."

The light turned green and, before Kirk could question him, Spock had stepped on the gas harder than necessary, causing Kirk to jerk back into his seat.

"Ah… wait, did we mutually fondle or something?" Kirk asked with mild disbelief. "Because if you took some kind of advantage of me last night, we can call it even. I won't get you in trouble for it. Hell, I think the only thing I regret is not remembering anything."

Spock gripped the steering wheel hard, his teeth audibly clicking as his jaw clenched. "I do not think that it is wise to speak of last night. We both overreached ourselves."

"Ah…" Kirk understood. "Yeah, I guess that was the second thing floating in my head. You aren't… I mean… we're both guys and I tried to mess around with you. You're kind of more considerate than I expected given… you know."

"Perhaps it is due to my peculiar upbringing," Spock murmured, shifting uncomfortably. "I am a child of two worlds, of Iraq and the USA. Like my father, I must be neutral and respectful to both cultures to avoid misunderstandings. Regardless of my first culture's aversion to your behavior, filing a report would be inappropriate as your actions did not constitute a form of sexual harassment."

Kirk nodded, knowing better than to look this gift horse in the mouth. "I'll respect your diplomacy, then. I'm just glad we don't have to stop by a drugstore to pick up Plan B. Nothing more embarrassing than an unwanted pregnancy."

Spock's lips twitched at his words. "You possess a strange sense of humor, Agent Kirk."

"Kirk's fine," he answered nonchalantly. "Or Jim, I don't care. Is Grayson your mother's last name, or…?"

"A general dossier about myself is available on the low-clearance database if you are genuinely interested," Spock dismissed, before taking a sip of his coffee and setting it down. Jim felt something akin to déjà vu, seeing Spock's hand rest on the gearshift. He couldn't put his finger on why it seemed familiar.

Shaking his head, Kirk snorted and returned to his drink. "It'd be much easier if you'd just tell me. Unless if this is your way of getting back at me for last night?"

"Petty vengeance is beneath the Kurdish people."

"Ah, so you do it half the time?" Kirk wiggled his eyebrows when Spock shot a withering look at him. When he didn't respond, Jim decided he'd won this round and moved to turn on the radio. There were no presets, leaving him with no indication what kind of music Spock liked.

He settled on his favorite classic rock station after a moment of fiddling, sat back and watched the muscles in Spock's jaw lock again. Mild amusement bubbled in Kirk's stomach by the driver's silent protestation. "Not enough drums and tambourines in American pop music, Analyst Grayson?"

"I prefer my commute silent to maximize my concentration on the road," Spock replied dryly.

Kirk was sure that was Spock's pretentious way of telling him to shut the fuck up.

When Kirk cleared out his desk, he couldn't help but remember the worries he'd had in Spock's car just that morning. This move may have only been temporary, but it still stung. His job was hanging by a thread.

Sulu was already there to watch his walk of shame. Unlike Kirk, he was good at hiding a hangover. The only sign was the slight jitter under his skin from what Jim estimated had to be his fifth cup of coffee. He'd been sipping and refilling all morning.

"So..." Sulu searched for a way to distract Jim. "You didn't come back to the bar last night. Gary was worried."

Kirk knew where this was going. He nodded to Sulu to follow him and escaped to the small enclave where the tiny storage lockers were. "Let me guess, he was worried that in my state, I'd do something horribly perverted to Spock and get myself fired?"

"You catch on well for someone who looks more out of it than me," Sulu confessed. "Admit it, you're affectionate as shit when you're drunk. Like horn-dog drunk. Spock could have taken it the wrong way."

He would have. Spock should have. But he didn't. That didn't stop Jim from feeling the need to beat the shit out of Scotty for using him as a bartering tool. Uhura probably connived him into it knowing the guy had the hots for her. This was why Kirk never took part in office romances. They had the potential to mess with politics. He knew how Game of Thrones ended.

"You don't have to worry about that." Jim said instead of explaining everything, leading Sulu back to what had been James Kirk's desk just one day ago. He scraped the last of his crap into a box and grabbed his meager belongings, not protesting when Sulu followed him to his new office.

There was a post-it note on his door from Spock, urging him to contact Calhoun.

"Love note from Grayson already?" Sulu teased, noting Kirk's frown. "You sure work fast."

Unable to resist, Kirk tore the note from the door and began to 'read' it in a melodramatically bad Russian accent. "Jim, las' nigh' vas vonderful, but please pull out next time. I don't want to get pregnant. Sincerely, Your Russian Minx. PS. Me lowve you long time."

Sulu glanced at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, but Kirk had already crumpled the note and stuck it in a pocket. "Very funny," he said dryly and leaned against the door, watching Kirk rifle around his box for his sidearm just in case he forgot it.

"I try." He found his sidearm trapped underneath his magic 8-ball and sighed with relief. Like he needed to double back and be reminded that he was no longer a single agent anymore, but a glorified office worker.

"If it makes you feel any better, Gary's left Scotty's ass alone just for you," Sulu said as he took another sip of his coffee. "Poor guy thinks it's his fault for introducing you guys, so he's gone off to sulk."

Kirk snorted and opened the door to his new office. The space was about the same, but instead of places to plug in laptops, there were forbidding-looking desktops and extra monitors taking up half the desks. A pencil-pusher space. Wonderful. "He barricaded himself on the docks? Good, it'll be easy to find him."

Sulu turned to head to his office, but remembered something and caught the door with his free hand. "Oh, just a head's up. I heard Pike's visiting your new office later. Probably got something to do with, I dunno, the prime evidence for Operation Gemini in the hands of local police. They still won't give it back, you know."

"I'm aware," Kirk slammed his box of possessions onto his new desk, the empty one. "You want me to grab a bike and pedal my ass all the way to Springfield? Half the department's already on my ass about it and it's not even nine!"

Sulu sensed that now was a good time to retreat and left Kirk to snarl at his paperweights.

He had a mandatory disciplinary course in protocol and etiquette that came with the demotion. Kirk didn't even get to see Spock until later when he returned to the shared office.

Opening the door, he found Spock and Chekov bent over a screen, intensely debating something in quiet voices over the complicated scripts and video feeds. Whatever it was had to be engrossing because neither of them noticed him enter. Chekov seemed entirely too pleased with himself this morning. Even more so than usual.

"Okay, I gotta know," That caused both computer nerds to break away from the screen and blink up at him. "Did everyone get some last night except for me?"

"You're dismissed, Chekov," Spock said, sparing the young technician. Chekov appreciated it greatly if his heavy blushing and mumbled apology were any indication. Poor thing nearly sprinted away.

Spock diverted his gaze back to Kirk, his tone flat and unamused. "I see that your etiquette course has done much to develop your sense for appropriate office topics."

"Funny." Kirk followed Chekov's exit suspiciously and then glowered at Spock. "It's true then, isn't it? I got sacrificed so everyone else could hook up."

"Define the phrase 'hook up,'" Spock replied with a curiousness Kirk did not expect. "I am unfamiliar with this colloquialism."

Whether Spock was trying to do it or not, he distracted him. Kirk explained as professionally as he could and then ended up forgetting the original point all together. "Uh... well, 'hook up' is used to describe a situation where two people (or sometimes more) go home together to... well, have sex, usually, or make out... sometimes people use it for dates but usually sex is the main activity."

"Then I can assure you once more," Spock cut through his rambling, "you did not engage in sexual congress with anyone last night." He tilted his head when Kirk sighed. "You are disappointed?"

"Well… okay maybe not," he decided and took Chekov's seat. "It's not like I would have remembered it anyways. And I bet they wouldn't have dry-cleaned my suit the next day. That was nice."

Spock almost shyly ducked away to return to his work, the move making Kirk raise his eyebrows. "I have heard that you are still unsuccessful in your retrieval of Arman Faziz's hard drive."

"Word spreads, doesn't it?" Kirk let the change of subject go and picked up one of the hard drives on Spock's desk, turning it over in his hands. "They even sic'd Sulu on me. I tried talking to her on the phone, but nothing. Calhoun refuses to mail it and wants me to come pick it up personally. She says she won't let anyone else take it, court order or no."

"Her actions are unprofessional. To withhold evidence, especially when it is the director that requested it, is illogical." How did Spock do that, make 'illogical' sound like 'fucking annoying'? Kirk grinned despite himself.

"Miffed about that are you? Or are you just reflecting Komack's frustration? She probably just felt bad because I got injured in her jurisdiction. I think she likes me." He placed the hard drive back on Spock's desk and moved to his own, lounging back in his chair.

Spock continued typing away, but Kirk could hear the tightness in his words. "It is illogical to be emotionally compromised in this line of work."

Kirk somewhat agreed, but shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Sometimes it's unavoidable though." He sat back in his chair, feeling nostalgic. "Pike once knew this guy. Real badass. You could toss a spear at his head and he wouldn't even flinch. Completely stony, like a damn statue. Then 9/11 happened. His wife worked halfway up the Second Tower and his kids were in a daycare there. Lost all of them that day. Pike found him sitting in the corner of a bathroom stall just sobbing. Sobbing and trying to call his wife. Never saw the man like that ever. Not even when he was in Desert Storm."

"What reaction would you have expected?" Spock inquired, his attention now completely off the computer.

"Well... I don't know," Kirk said thoughtfully and thumbed at one of the circuits on the motherboard. "I've never had it happen. Don't have a wife or kids. I guess if anything happened to one of the guys... I think I'd be pissed off more. I'd want revenge."

Spock slid his gaze back to the screen. "An honest answer."

"I'm just saying, it's different for everybody. But all humans need to be angry sometimes. Even snarky half-Kurds."

"Snarky is not a word I would use to describe Kurdish dispositions."

"Are you sure, Analyst Grayson?" Kirk said with a grin, leaning back in his chair. "You sure seem to be from where I'm standing. How do you even define snarkiness? To me, it's a mastery over tonality and phraseology. You may very well be a king in your own right; a king of the colloquial. King Spock has a nice ring to it, actually."

He was sure Spock was glaring. Those brown eyes had darkened to deep obsidian and bored into Kirk with what could be nothing but anger.

Spock's next words were thick, almost hoarse. He couldn't be that sensitive, right? "I believe I have underestimated you. I will not do so again."

Kirk puzzled over whether that was a compliment or a threat. To be on the safe side, he went with 'threat.' This was Komack's little princess, after all.

Spock looked ready to chuck him into the wastebasket and sit on the lid until Jim asphyxiated. Then, he'd probably straighten his jacket and go right back to work, distraction-free.

Then again, Spock also looked like he wanted to grab Kirk, fling him over the desk, and ravish him until he was senseless. Jim liked to think he wasn't being too optimistic for wishing that to be the case. But he put a leash on his libido and stuck it in a corner, going back to work with a sigh.

Sometimes Kirk would look up from his paperwork to glance at that bow-shaped mouth and wonder what it would be like to suckle it. Kirk was a sucker for lips like that.

Sharing an office was obviously not Spock's idea since he'd made no attempts to initiate communication all morning. He preferred to focus on his work in a distraction-free zone.

Too bad Kirk didn't give a shit about office etiquette, which was part of the reason he had to endure those god-awful lessons for the next few weeks. Not that any amount of 'development' would change James Kirk. He badly wanted to boldly go to town mapping out those exotic features with his mouth. How much of it was from his father's side and how much of it was his mother's? He may have been half-Kurd, but Kirk had found out in the files that Spock's mother had been Canadian.

So that made Spock insufferably polite to boot. No wonder he'd dry-cleaned Kirk's suit.

Spock looked up from their shared desk, dark brown eyes inquisitive. "Agent Kirk."

Kirk winked at him. "Call me Jim."

Spock ignored that. "Is there something you seek from me, Agent Kirk?"

Actually, Kirk did seek something, but he was pretty sure that related directly to chapter eleven, paragraph four under sexual harassment in the Code of Conduct Handbook. Questions spilled from his lips regardless. "Do you ever smile or is that some Kurdish manly pride slash composure thing? What about music, what do you like? Have you ever been to places other than Iraq, or is that classified too?"

Spock seemed to freeze for when Kirk licked his lips, then relaxed. "Agent Kirk, you are more than welcome to peruse the details of my life available in my public file. Most of the answers you seek can be found there."

"But, Spock," Kirk sighed dramatically, "Files can always be... erroneous. Especially in this business. I'd rather hear it from you. The personal touch, you could say." Besides, he'd already been through Spock's public files multiple times with no satisfying results.

Since Kirk had been expecting the cold shoulder, he was surprised to see Spock sit back a bit and consider his words. "Asking if Kurds can smile is ridiculous. We are capable of the same range of emotions as any other group. I assume you are basing this 'erroneous' conclusion on your experience with my personality. That, too, is a false deduction."

Kirk couldn't help but smile in amusement at that. "What can I say? I'm just a dumb American."

"I have met worse," Spock replied stiffly, which Kirk had to admit was a compliment. "Kurdish music comprises specialized instruments including strings, drums, and long flutes. There are typically epic sonnets and ballads of folklore depending on the region."

"I kinda want to hear some of them," Kirk admitted, rather partial to any genre of music himself. "Maybe I'll pull up YouTube during break or something and check it out. Any specific ones I should hear?"

This time both of Spock's eyebrows climbed and Kirk glimpsed firstly of actual surprise on his face. He offered him a few names, some of which Kirk had to write out with Spock's help. By the time he'd meticulously spelled each name to make sure he got it, Spock looked downright impressed. Kirk wasn't just being nice; he was genuinely interested.

He had thought Spock wouldn't answer his last question, but he did. "As for my traveling, my father is a diplomat. I have visited neighboring countries like Iran and Syria, though only briefly. Political instability is only one of many reasons my father insisted on remaining in the Middle East alone."

The uncharacteristic hesitation of his words made Kirk believe that Spock was used to hostility, especially post-9/11. He wondered if he was being unintentionally insensitive. That was the thing with his mouth, it ran off regularly without consulting with his brain first. Apparently that was an infamous Kirk trait.

"Cool," he said nonchalantly, threatening to break out into a smile. "I smile, of course. It's dazzling, but I'm sure you know that already."

"Subjective," Spock dismissed, but Kirk swore he saw the corner of his lips quirk for a split second before returning to a dispassionate frown.

"And don't get me started on music because I'll talk your ear off. I've traveled almost everywhere except the moon though I kinda wished I had. Other than that, I was raised in Iowa. Shitty farming town, nothing special."

"And yet you are a decorated CIA agent, despite this," Spock surmised carefully, a subtle compliment hidden in his words. Kirk smiled.

Decorated was an overstatement. Kirk had won no notable accolades, probably never would given his track record for disobeying protocol. He got the job done. And gave the people who'd written the protocol migraines.

But Spock already knew that, no doubt had already memorized every pertinent detail of James Kirk's public file. He probably hadn't downloaded Jim's profile picture or looked for sexual conquests under 'areas of expertise' but, hey, a guy had to have some fun.

They shared a curious look before Kirk rummaged through his drawers of useless knickknacks. He couldn't wait to show Spock his drinking bird.

Lunch hour had come and gone before Director Pike arrived with clipboard in hand. He caught them in a rather peculiar position; Spock was under his desk and Kirk was lounging back in his chair with a lazy grin fixed on his face. What had started as an exercise in persuasion had ended up with quite interesting results.

Kirk had wanted to see if he could get Spock to 'help' him place his firearm in the holster that was installed under the desk. Oh, he hadn't asked or anything. All he'd done was fumble it enough times to make his new partner concerned about a misfire. A little grumbling and cursing at his broken arm, and Spock volunteered. Now, the agent was bent over with his head under the desk and Kirk was definitely thinking thoughts that violated the Code of Conduct.

It didn't help that Pike caught Kirk focusing a bit too intensely on how those slacks really stretched and molded his ass. When Spock finally emerged, hair tousled and breathless with annoyance due to a faulty clasp in the holster, Kirk suddenly found speech a bit difficult.

"Well," Pike began dryly, startling the both of them. "I see you've wasted no time in getting to know each other."

Kirk smiled apologetically at Spock. "He's joking, Spock. And thanks."

"You are welcome," Spock murmured, eyes forward to address Pike. "My apologies for any confusion, Director. I was simply fixing Agent Kirk's holster—"

"Oh, I'm sure you were," Pike raised an eyebrow. "Komack that much of a hard-ass, is he? Well, you'll be glad to hear that I'm an even bigger one. I just have a sense of humor."

"Amen," Kirk muttered under his breath.

"And I see you're already dazzled by blue eyes over there, since you're catering to his every whim," Pike pointed his clipboard at Kirk but kept his eyes on Spock. "I suggest not underestimating how he works. He acts like an idiot, but that only makes him more dangerous."

Spock blinked. "Another joke, Director?"

"Not this time."

"Hey!" Kirk exclaimed, then balked when Spock took Pike's words seriously and nodded. "Oh come on, Spock. I really did need help with my holster."

His plea went unanswered. Pike was already getting down to business. "So on the plate today. Calhoun won't budge on the confiscated computer. Which means you'll have to get it in person." Pike glanced up from the file and cocked his head at him. "You look like shit."

Kirk frowned, mildly insulted. "I didn't have time to shave."

"Good. Don't do it for the next few days," Pike handed him another folder. "While Spock analyzes Faziz's computer, you might as well do some actual work around here during the wait. Araya Karbelnikoff will be returning to DC and I'm sure she's expecting her lover at the studio."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Kirk sighed and tapped the edge of the folder against his hip. "She wasn't supposed to be back for another three months. What am I gonna do about the pieces?" Araya was a demanding, spoiled princess with a compulsion to surround herself with beauty. Patrick Thorpe had promised her a gallery that would take her breath away upon her return. She was supposed to be gone for an entire year, so he'd traded his scheduling with Kelso for their art designer.

Kirk would need to grow Patrick's beard all over again.

"I bumped you to the top of the list, Kirk," Pike said. "She can design three pieces in two days, but that's it."

"I'm gonna need more than three," Kirk whined. "I promised Karbelnikoff an art gallery when she got back."

Spock, curious with the espionage work, piped up. "You are injured. This may serve as a plausible excuse for a limited showing."

"Look at that, you're working as a team already," Pike smiled warmly at Spock. "Actually, that gives me an idea. Since Kelso's out on his honeymoon the next couple of weeks, you're out an analyst for the Karbelnikoff case. Take Spock with you. Let him see how you work."

Kirk traded a look with Spock, who simply raised an eyebrow before returning to his computer. "Wait… you're taking me off desk work?"

"You're still grounded, Kirk," Pike said. "Whatever Komack believes, espionage cases hardly ever end in gunfights. You've been riding the Karbelnikoff family's good graces the longest out of the others. We need to know which clients her dad's picked up overseas in the last few months."

Spock turned in his seat, puzzled. "I had thought Agent Kirk was an SSO according to his dossier?"

"He didn't tell you? Figures," Pike shot a look at Kirk who rolled his eyes. "Kirk was recently 'promoted' to Specialized Security Officer. I thought he'd be ready for the position…"

"I am," Kirk shot back.

"Your boss prefers to keep Kirk here as a Targeting Analyst. Despite tensions, and I mean this Kirk, I do agree with Komack's reasoning. You are one of our top agents as a TA."

"That's nice." Kirk snorted and fanned himself with the file. "Please. TA is nothing, but a glorified title for a hired actor. I sit around, bemoaning my existence, and let the girl drape all over me while the techs excavate every one of Daddy's dirty little secrets. That'll be you, by the way."

"It may be me," Spock corrected, "I have my own cases to work on."

Pike tossed a look at Kirk, who just shrugged. "Whatever. It's Spock's prerogative. Any analyst who can work surveillance bugging would do."

"If you say so." There was something in Pike's tone that got Kirk on edge. "I did send an open Counterintelligence Analyst position in the central hub. Analyst Moreau answered first. Think about it, Grayson."

Oh god. Anyone but Moreau. "Spock, Spock, Spock…" Kirk cooed, sliding behind him and patting the back of Spock's chair. As soon as Pike was out of sight and earshot, he gripped Spock's shoulder. The way Spock stiffened beneath his fingers was strangely invigorating. "You know, I've been thinking about this partnership thing. It'd be logical for us to… stick together, you know? Forge natural synergy and cooperation…"

Spock wasn't fooled. He tilted his head up, exposing his pale throat. Kirk resisted the urge to lick his lips.

"Agent Kirk, you are aware that we are working together for Operation Gemini alone," Spock said. "My work flow for the week—"

"—is already organized according to urgency, length, color, blah blah blah," he gave Spock his best charming smile and leaned forward. "Oh c'mon. I know you haven't manned a van before. It'd be logical to earn experience on the field instead of behind the desk. Watch me in action, Grayson. I'll prove my worth to you."

"As you still possess the badge and sidearm, I have no doubts as to your qualifications." Spock deflated however, just a little, under Kirk's gentle coaxing. "But you are correct. I have not participated in fieldwork since training."

Kirk felt a bite and started to slowly reel Spock in. "And you won't be disappointed! Besides, I can pick up Faziz's computer from Calhoun on the way up. It'll go directly to your lap. No preliminary scans, shipping problems, or any of that bureaucratic bullshit. You can get to work on it with no hassle."

He begged Spock with his eyes, the way he leaned into his personal space. Anyone but Moreau. Spock he wouldn't mind. He was offering Spock a position of trust. Who else could an agent on the field depend his life on than the analyst telling him who to shoot, where to run, what to do?

"What do you have against Analyst Moreau?" Spock asked slowly.

Knowing this was going to be brought up, Kirk moved away from Spock and blocked the analyst's view of the monitor. "He knows what he's doing," he answered stiffly and leaned his ass on the desk. "But I don't want him."

"This is a personal issue, then?" Spock leaned back in his seat so regally, it took Kirk's breath away. They both tried to keep their distance, but they were even closer than before. He could practically touch knees with Spock at this angle.

If only they were talking about something more appealing, like how much he liked the way Spock left the top button of his shirt undone. Then he realized that he needed to stop ogling like a damn schoolgirl because thoughts like these just weren't healthy.

It was just so, so hard. And talking about Moreau just made things worse. "Off the record, Spock?" he offered with a hesitant frown.

"I welcome it."

Mitchell's suspicions be damned. Spock just sounded so sincere it was hard to see him as a threat to his career. Or maybe that was the perfect con and Spock was a damn fine actor. He'd be wearing a tin hat right now if Komack was smarter, but that was hardly the case.

Kirk averted his gaze and focused on the wastebasket for a moment before busying himself with the files. "I'm not comfortable around him." Spock was silent, waiting for him to elaborate further. Kirk shrugged at him. "That's all I have to say about that."

"If he has distressed you, you are within your rights to contact Human Resources and file a report."

"Advise me all you want," Kirk dismissed. "You don't go around just contacting HR for every stupid thing. It's just... my problem."

Kirk shouldn't have been surprised by how insightful Spock was proving. "If it was a 'stupid' thing, you wouldn't be so determined to acquire anyone but Moreau."

"Maybe I just want you to come along. Ever thought about that?"

"Yet you did not mind when I refused the first time. When Director Pike mentioned Moreau you changed your tune, I believe the phrase is."

Jim regretted opening his mouth in the first place. "I think we should drop this. I don't want to work with him. End of story."

"You wished to speak off the record," Spock reminded him, his gaze indecipherable. "Now you want to rescind the offer."

It dawned on Kirk, leaving him breathless again. "Are you irritated that I brushed you off the first time?"

"I was not..."

"You were!" He leaned forward, meeting eye level with Spock. "C'mon Spock, we're partners. You don't need to hide anything from me."

"We have a temporary alliance," Spock said shortly. "We need not engage in social conduct when it does not affect the mission."

Kirk smiled slowly. "Now who's trying to rescind from speaking candidly? We live dangerous lives, trading dangerous secrets. You and I both know that a profitable collaboration is equivalent exchange."

"My life in return for yours," Spock said quietly, diverting his dark eyes from Kirk's. "That is rather intimate, Agent Kirk."

Kirk suppressed the urge to lean forward, bump foreheads with Spock, and bask in this... whatever this was. Like they were on the same wavelength finally. Spock made him giddy as shit. That excited him... and frightened him.

"Think we could be friends?" Kirk asked and, strangely enough, Spock was as still as water. "Because that's what friends do. They share information with each other."

Friends survived longer on the field. It had to do with, well, not wanting a friend to die compared to a coworker. It would be nice if Spock liked him well enough not to risk his ass on a technicality. It might even save his job.

Spock's mouth opened, then closed. Error: 404. Sheepish, Kirk patted Spock's hand in pity once and then, almost curious from the déjà vu, he kept it there for a beat longer than necessary before pulling away.

"Think about it, Spock," Kirk flashed a grin his way. "Don't spend the rest of your life hiding behind the computer. What if you miss out on something worthwhile?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

"What's up, motherfucker?" Kirk said loudly and heard Scotty's skull thunk against the underside of his van. "You almost got me fired last night trying to get some from Uhura!"

Kirk had snuck up on Scotty while he'd been tinkering along happily. Now, he yanked himself out from the undercarriage and slammed his toe on a toolbox trying to get away, but Kirk was no longer hindered by drinks or painkillers. He picked up a muffler with his uninjured arm and tossed it like a bowling ball. With a yelp and a curse, Scotty tripped on the muffler while he hopped around in pain and went face first into the side of the van, easily trapped once Kirk swooped down on him.

"What… hav' yeh gone and lost yer marbles, Kirk?" Scotty's eyes were darting in every direction.

"When you're guilty, you hide down here and tinker with the van," Jim grinned viciously and gestured to the splayed out tools with his shoe. "Tell me, was plowing Uhura worth risking my job, jackass?"

"Ah, ah! Watch th' hair!" Scotty had chuckled nervously then flinched from Kirk's fist. "Okay, I had ter pull out Nyota somehow! Grayson was attached ter her like a babe ter a teet!"

Kirk lowered his fist in an act of mercy. "Ever thought that maybe, I dunno, Spock might have the hots for her?" Because it sounded exactly like that and he saw the picture of her on Spock's fireplace that morning. The way they stood together in the photo looked like they should shack up and have a million intelligent babies to take over the planet right about now.

Well, maybe. Uhura seemed pleasant in the photo, her smile bright and blinding for the camera, but Spock looked like he was just caught in another boring day at work. Did he ever smile?

Scotty snorted. "Don'chu think they would've shacked up by now? Besides, between you an' me, Nyota prefers a gentleman with a sense of humor."

"Then why did she leave with you last night?" Kirk teased, then laughed when Scotty sputtered indignantly.

"Very funny!"

"I am? Does that mean I got a chance with…" he trailed off. "Wait? Her first name's Nyota?"

"No comment! And yeh damn well better keep that pretty trap shut!" Scotty had said before ducking sideways under Kirk's arm and frolicking off because he definitely got laid last night and it just wasn't fair.

"Yeah well, I hope you had fun because I'm assigning you again to the Karbelnikoff target. You won't be able to see Nyota for the next three weeks!" Kirk sing-songed at his back.

Scotty swore loudly.

Kirk had to suppress the rumble of pleasure in his chest when he found Spock waiting for him with the rest of his crew. The ride to DC, and the detour to Springfield, was long as usual, but he didn't mind this time.

Well, half-mind. Pike must have thought it'd be funny to bring Moreau along with them. Spock seemed to have gotten the hint the last time they talked. He made sure he was between Kirk and Moreau the whole time.

It was... nice. He hoped the unnecessary smiles he shot Spock's way whenever he addressed him expressed his gratitude.

Moreau, even more thankfully, didn't seem to be in a bitchy mood as usual. He was always dressed to the nines in the latest business fashion and trying too hard to be the sexiest man in the room. Moreau was young, barely in his twenties, and one of the new brilliant technical recruits of the CIA. Basically, he was a spy-movie producing Hollywood executive's wet dream.

He plugged away at the van's computer system with updates and Kirk prayed that maturity had finally kicked the boy right in the ass. What happened in the past should just remain there — just one embarrassing memory left well enough alone.

The tension almost eased away once they passed the Springfield line. Kirk braced for impact the moment Spock's eyes narrowed in question during his perusal of Kirk's cover file.

"Are you sure this is an appropriate state ID for Agent Kirk's alias?" Spock raised the card for Moreau's viewing. Kirk finished loading his firearm with an audible click against his knee and then squinted his eyes at the ID in Spock's hand.

Moreau didn't even bother to look. "It's from Agent Kelso's files. Why the hell are you questioning something I've been doing the past two years? I know how this works."

"I can never understand why Americans must need to be so defensive when they are in error," Spock said curtly.

That got Moreau to turn in his seat and toss his headphones against the keyboard. "I'm not in error. You're the one who's nitpicking!"

"Dunnae make me turn this van around!" Scotty piped cheerfully from the driver's seat and shared a look with Mitchell, who shook his head and cranked up the music.

"Let me see that, Grayson," Kirk ordered. The last thing they need right now is a bitch fit between two analysts. He didn't want to end up dead during a mission because they had an argument over something stupid.

Spock handed over the ID before sending a dismissive look at Moreau. So much for a neutral buffer.

"It looks like Patrick Thorpe's usual ID," Kirk concluded and checked both sides. "I know he lives in DC, but his last residence was in New York. He's just too lazy to get a Pennsylvania license. Though, wait a minute…" He raised an eyebrow at Moreau when he shot a smug look at Spock. "This ID's past its expiration date, Moreau. You didn't get a new one?"

Moreau paled and took back the ID to see for himself. "I… fuck."

Well, this was going to be a swell experience. He'd raise both hands up in surrender except for the fact that Bones refused to let him out of the sling. "Fine. Whatever. It's not important. Just chill."

"The reason I agreed to join you on this mission was to experience first-hand what an on-field analyst is capable of," Spock interjected. "However, Analyst Moreau's lack of attention to detail could spell disaster to the assignment. It would not be productive to learn from him."

"I'm right here, you impersonal asshole," Moreau said acidly. "God, I can't believe Jim has to put up with you for the next few weeks—"

"That's enough, Moreau," Kirk replied, raising his voice enough to get both of their attentions. "Just get this shit sorted out before I get dropped off. And Spock…" he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You're mostly here for Faziz's computer anyways. Just keep out of each other's hair for the sake of my goddamn sanity."

Jesus Christ. This was going to be a nightmare.

At least Calhoun seemed a tad apologetic. Kirk walked with her down the entryway of the Springfield PD department and laid on as much charm as possible to get her cooperative. Her annoyance with him had dissipated the moment he visited her office with the sling around his arm and the bruises and cuts along his jaw.

"You know, you weren't the only ones gunning for the computer," she said with folded arms. "I've had the FBI and Homeland Security busting my ass for a crack at it. I told them the same thing I'm telling you. It's yours, Kirk. I don't appreciate people butting in on someone else's case."

That explained why she'd been so damn stubborn. Kirk kind of admired that. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said gruffly and averted her eyes from his best smile. It reminded her of her similarly aged son, no doubt. Kirk had looked into her personal files beforehand. "And I'll have you know we didn't touch it. We don't have the proper techs to go through it even if we wanted to. Place this small, we don't need an ace team of computer crackers. You're free to take it off our hands. In fact, I'll give it to you on a silver platter if you promise to get your nose out of our business."

"But that's my job," he winked and, like Pike, Calhoun was still immune to it. She just raised an eyebrow and nodded to him like she was saying 'now get out.' He grinned despite himself.

Before Kirk could finish saying goodbye to Calhoun, Mitchell grabbed his arm and leaned in close to speak to his ear. "Spock's talking to one of the cops."

"So?"

"He's doing it in Arabic," Moreau muttered from behind.

Kirk stilled before he could stop himself and immediately shook his head. There was no way in hell he was going to go that route. "So what? He's in trouble for speaking 'le tongue of ze terrorist'? He's Kurdish. How about a little maturity here?"

"Think with your head instead of your dick this time, Kirk," Mitchell said and pulled him over to the corner. Kirk shoved him off and peeked around it with a sigh.

Spock was conversing in quiet Arabic with a full uniformed officer whose hat obscured his eyes, his arms full of the computer tower. Kirk only had taken a few beginner's courses in the language, but it wasn't enough to carry the conversation.

He could practically hear Winona warning him in his head about how sneaky and untrustworthy Middle Eastern people were, and he squelched it down. His own family might be prejudiced and shit, but Jim Kirk was nothing like that.

Still… "I'll keep an eye on him," Kirk relented, his lips in a thin line. Personal feelings had nothing to do with national security. He had to remember that.

But if he doubted his partner just because he was speaking in his native tongue…

Moreau seemed pleased by his statement, which just pissed Kirk off. "He's still a fellow agent," Kirk snapped at them. "I suggest you treat him like one until you get real evidence. Otherwise I want you booted off my team. You or even you…" he shot a glare at Mitchell.

Mitchell raised his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright. He's your little eye-candy, don't worry. Just warning you not to get honeydicked."

"Oh shut up," Kirk snorted and retreated from the corner towards Spock, who ended the conversation with the officer and blinked at him.

"Is there something wrong, Agent Kirk?"

"Maybe," he glanced at the cop who shrugged and walked the opposite way. "You know the guy?"

Spock shook his head. "He hails from one of the villages my father represents. He was on the SWAT team when you apprehended Faziz. I asked him if there were any details about the case that had not yet been entered into the record."

He had no idea how relieved Kirk felt at that moment. "I suppose since you both share a similar heritage, he'd be more inclined to talk to you."

"Indeed." There was something in Spock's eyes that suggested suspicion. "I assure you and the other agents hiding behind the wall that if I were to engage in terrorist activities, I would have done so in a far more intelligent fashion." His words positively dripped in sarcasm, but guilt instantly flooded Kirk's system.

Kirk averted his eyes. "Spock, that's not…"

"You requested open communication between us." Kirk nodded at Spock's words. "You may air your grievances with me." He subtly gestured towards Mitchell and Moreau. "In private."

He was stupid—completely stupid, and he blamed Mitchell and Moreau for it. He actively ignored them throughout the ride and kept close to Spock, who didn't speak to him.

DC was just miles away, but the Operator in charge of setting up sting cameras, and ordered them off the capital's soil until they finished compiling the appropriate listening equipment in Patrick Thorpe's studio again. As the mastermind of CIA mission specs, the proverbial eye in the sky, they've long since learned to follow the Operator's instructions without question.

So they checked into the hotel on the outskirts and Kirk made especially sure he was sharing his room with Spock. Mitchell had stayed behind in Springfield to scout Faziz's family and friends in the area, so Scotty reluctantly agreed to share his room with Moreau. He owed Jim.

They weren't staying at the Ritz-Carlton, but the place wasn't serial-killer worthy either. Any hotel was okay with him so long as it was clean. He just wouldn't take a black light to those duvet tops anytime soon.

Spock was already seated at the desk with his laptop plugged in. He hadn't said a word so far, and Jim was fairly certain he was still pissed off.

So he flopped down on one of the two beds, staring at nothing in particular but the back of Spock's black laptop. Looked like a homebrew job. A very expensive and professional one, but still.

He wondered if Spock had to deal with suspicion from his colleagues all the time. Kirk couldn't even imagine that and felt even more guilty. What if he thought Kirk was a racist like his mother or his grandfather?

Kirk's family was infamous for their presence in the Middle East. Spock had to have known this. Desert Storm and now 9/11 may have been the act of terrorists, but to the average person, any Muslim was suspect and that was definitely at least partly Kirk's family's fault. Hell, one of his cousins had been one of the largest mouthpieces on the Senate floor for the Patriot Act, and look what happened there.

But James Kirk wasn't like them. He liked to believe that Pike saved him from it; the man had practically raised him. Hell, what if Spock's cold neutrality was just a careful mask to avoid offending anyone? He had to walk on eggshells here. Home of the free, land of the brave, and yet there were people here that would all too gladly kick out everyone like Spock, regardless of character.

It pissed him off. Maybe that's why Kirk was trying so damn hard to prove that he wasn't like his family. Even if his father had died in the same country Spock was from, he could work with a Middle Eastern partner, even trust him with his life.

Couldn't he?

"I'm sorry," he said after a long moment. "I didn't mean to seem suspicious, Spock."

The typing slowly stopped. Spock finally looked at him for the first time since Springfield.

He didn't… he didn't seem offended. At all. In fact, he seemed indifferent, like it was commonplace for people to question him. Kirk wasn't really sure if that made him feel better or worse.

"While racial profiling is hardly ethical, the government has a valid reason for employing it. You and the others cannot be faulted for using your training to identify possible terrorists like myself," Spock said clinically. He folded his hands over the keyboard. "Therefore, I am well equipped to handle any such prejudices you wish to address to 'clear the air' and avoid any miscommunication that might be offensive."

"Don't say that," Kirk warned. "It's wrong and we both know it. I just want you to know that I'm not talking to you because I'm worried you'll bomb the compound or something. I'm not even trying to be friendly for the sake of being PC. I'm just a naturally nosy motherfucker. I want to get to know my partner even if it's temporary."

Spock inclined his head in agreement, but Kirk found it wasn't enough. "I told the guys I didn't want them to act like assholes until they had a valid reason to be suspicious."

"That is logical," Spock agreed with a rare nod of approval. It made Kirk's insides fuzzy as shit. "I thank you for following protocol."

"For once?" Kirk winked and, just like that, the energy between them shifted for the better. The hotel room itself felt a few degrees warmer. "Might not be a good decision on my end. You do kind of distract me."

That eyebrow quirked up again. "In what way?"

"Yeah, I dunno if it's appropriate given… you know, but you're kinda hot," he said, unable to stop his mouth. "That is…I mean that in a professional, scientific kind of way. Err… did I say hot? Good-looking? Handsome? Actually, if you don't forward this conversation to HR, I won't say another word."

Spock blinked at him, opened his mouth, then closed it like he could not process the words. Kirk didn't blame him. His culture wasn't exactly friendly towards same-sex canoodling. What kind of response had he expected?

He knew how he'd respond. But Spock? Error: 404. Again.

He expected Spock to say nothing, or tell him that flirting with him was rude and uncalled for because he was straight and he was in an arranged marriage or something.

So when Spock averted his gaze, Kirk was surprised to find his answer soft and, hell, almost flattered. "Thank you." And was that red on his cheeks? No way.

Kirk tried to smile for the sake of it. "You're welcome."

"If this is another attempt to dissuade me from believing you prejudiced, you do not have to—"

"I'm serious," Kirk interrupted, rolling on the high of Spock's blushing. "I kind of dig that desert dweller flavor if you know what I mean. Probably why Mitchell's so bitchy about it. He said you're honeydicking me."

Spock blinked in confusion. "Honey… dicking?"

Kirk chuckled and leaned forward in his seat, ready to explain, animated hands and all. "It's from a new movie that came out. North Korea got their panties in a twist all about it. Has the CIA in it, you know. Not well-portrayed, but I thought it was funny."

"Fascinating."

"Yeah. Anyway, the main characters catch on to the CIA's tactics. You know, you bring in a hot agent to get your targets under the collar and they end up doing things for you?" Kirk elaborated. "The main character called it honeydicking. It gets mentioned throughout the movie."

Spock tilted his head, expression unsure as he folded his arms. "I had thought that particular CIA move would be referred to as a 'honeypot'."

"If she's a chick that seduces you, yeah," Kirk agreed. "But if it's a dude doing it, he's a honeydick." Spock just stared at him before turning back to his computer, apparently done with the conversation.

Kirk laid back on his bed and began counting the cracks in the ceiling. He didn't think the CIA would honeydick him. But if they were, they were doing a damn good job of it. He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything else.

Or maybe he'd just think of Spock with nothing but that stupid tie on. He let out a frustrated sigh that thankfully Spock didn't seem to notice.

It's gonna be a long fucking night.