Does he or doesn't he?

Chapter 2

Alternate ending, for slash fans…………………………………………………………………….

In the Captain's cabin, all was quiet except for the beeping of his computer. Then a long, lean figure detached itself from the shadows behind the ornamental screen. "Is he gone?"

"You're not here, Mr. Spock." Kirk said, not looking up from his work.

The First Officer walked a few more steps into the room. "Indeed, you beamed me back up from the station, to a cleared transporter room, yourself."

"I think you must be suffering from McCoy's delusions," Kirk said. But then relenting, he turned around. "So, did I come across convincingly? Did I remember all the arguments?"

Spock raised a brow in confirmation. "No one would ever deny your powers of oratory, Captain. And your ability to convince. You might consider a career as a Federation ambassador."

"I wouldn't want to deny your father his job," Kirk said wickedly. "I already took his son."

"In point of fact, you have not," Spock said, meeting his bet and raising it. "At least, not today."

Kirk hissed at that. "Never teach a Vulcan sexual innuendo."

"Indeed? I am generally a quick study. Perhaps," he tilted his head in a subtle invitation, "I simply need more lessons."

"Are you trying to seduce your Captain from his duty?" Kirk asked, warningly. "That's mutiny, Mister."

"Guilty as charged."

Kirk looked from the piles of tapes and reports to the expectant Vulcan. "Such a threat to my command does require immediate action."

"Precisely. And I am, as you well know, a very dangerous individual. I have stolen this starship before."

"The brig's too far. Though I could put you in restraints."

"You could try. Vulcan strength, however, would avail."

"That sounds like a tempting challenge," Kirk said. "And I'd like to call your bluff." He spared the work another glance and drew a breath. "Well, even the Captain deserves a break. And I'm starting to go screen crazy staring at that computer. Fifteen minutes of a certain…activity…will brighten me up. If you help me with this pile afterwards."

"I won't be able to do that in restraints."

"Very funny. Who said Vulcans don't joke?"

"I do. At times. And at other times…"

"Trying to wrestle you down would certainly wake me up, but I have to save some energy for the rest of this afternoon's work. What say we take a nice congenial quickie, and save the ambitious stuff for tonight?"

"As my Captain orders."

Kirk flipped off the computer, and came around the screen, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Will you ever tell McCoy?" Spock asked, taking off his boots.

"The day after we dock Earthside, after the five year mission. Then he can't report us. He swears he's not signing on for another five year. So then he'd be safe."

Spock paused in pulling off his own uniform shirt, his hair a rare tousled tangle. "He did not seem adverse."

"He's CMO, and we're under his thumb in that respect. For now. Beside it isn't fair to him to tell him. As a Starfleet Officer, he'd be required to report it, in his logs if nothing else. And then it becomes part of our permanent record. Even if Bones isn't hostile to the idea, the Starfleet Surgeon General would take a dim view. They would separate us. If anything happened to McCoy, the next CMO would be duty bound to turn us in, same as any Command Grade officers that were involved. No, Bones stays in the dark until he's out of Fleet."

"He already suspects."

"We're just going to have to watch those looks."

"I never look." Spock said loftily.

"Not much, you don't. That innocent act serves you pretty well."

"If I was innocent," Spock corrected. "I am no longer."

"I'm not so sure about that." Kirk smiled. "You know, Spock, the last thing I expected to find out here in space, was you."

"Then we are very unequal. For I," said Spock, "have been looking for you all my life."

"We must be the absolute proof, then, that opposites attract."

"It is a natural law."

Kirk crowded onto the narrow bunk. "Think Sarek will consider that a logical enough excuse?"

Spock raised his brows. "I believe we both need time to perfect our arguments."

"Well," Kirk said suggestively, "Practice makes perfect."

"I meant--"

"Spock, we've only got fifteen minutes."

"Fourteen point--"

"Commander?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"At ease."

It was a few minutes short of fifteen that the piles of work poised precariously on the desk outside the ornamental screen encountered some strange disturbance, unaccountable from any orbital or ship movement, and came tumbling down from the desk with a resounding crash.

But the nearby occupants were, fortunately, quite oblivious.