Momentum | STXI | PG-13
Title: Momentum
Rating: PG-13
Series: STXI
Length: ~8,000
Warnings: Cake as a plot device.
Summary: All Spock needs is a little momentum towards his Captain. And as much as he abhors to admit it, Lieutenant Marlena Moreau is just the person to provide a push - or, when necessary, a punch.
Disclaimer: Somewhere over the slash rainbow of my mind, it happened. But not in Kansas, sadly.
A/N: Posting to my journal for archive purposes. Already posted to the Universal Constant Vol.1: A Kirk/Spock Reboot Online Zine in January 2011.
“Well, Mr. Spock - had someone informed me eight months ago that I’d spend my first shore leave back home with a Vulcan, I’d have thought they were bullshitting me.”
Spock spared his captain a droll look, but it was in good humour that their eyes locked. “I emphatically agree.”
Kirk’s eyes brightened with surprise, and the consequent laugh skittered lightly across Spock’s skin. It was the only way he would ever experience the phenomenon of prickling flesh, known plainly as ‘goosebumps’.
Willing away the reaction, Spock trained is attention to the PADD in his hands. Before the Enterprise departed Earth’s space-dock, a new recruit would be joining the crew. Ensign Salna had been killed in action, and their security team was a person short.
In addition, Yeoman Rand required relief as she went on maternity leave. It appeared that aphrodisiacal pollen was seriously hampering their missions, as this was the second pollen-related pregnancy to plague the Enterprise.
Within the constraints of his mind, Spock admitted that he found Starfleet’s solution to their crew shortage a bit unusual. Rather than assigning two new members, they assigned a single lieutenant. One who would, essentially, act as a personal bodyguard for the Captain and as a yeoman. Those were two entirely diverse roles to fill for one person, but Spock would not question the word of the Federation. From the background check he’d performed upon their arrival to San Francisco, Spock could not fault the decision.
Marlena Moreau appeared to be a competent individual.
“So,” Kirk’s voice rose above the din of the crowded shuttle hangar. “Who’s this bodyguard, again? I already feel sorry for the poor guy.”
“Her name is Mar -”
A raspy, feminine voice drawled, “Jimmy fucking Kirk, where the hell have you been?”
Spock found himself scrutinising the curvaceous female swaggering towards them in a traditionally Human male uniform. As Kirk whooped with raucous pleasure and plucked her off her feet in a spinning embrace, Spock caught a flash of aloof eyes, long legs and short black hair with spiky bangs.
“What are you doing here, Moreau?” Kirk inquired with a grin. His hands ran down the length of her arms and stopped to grip her hands lightly.
The roaring in Spock’s ears nearly drowned the ensuing conversation.
Lieutenant Moreau rolled her eyes and batted his hands away from hers, but her lips were minutely curved. “Do you even read your rosters, Captain? I’m your new bodyguard.”
Kirk’s jaw dropped, and he quickly looked over his shoulder to gain affirmation from Spock.
Spock found his paralysation broke just enough for him to stiffly nod.
There was another hoot of glee from his captain, as Kirk pulled Lieutenant Moreau into yet another embrace. The woman’s laugh was warm and throaty as she briefly squeezed back, and then efficiently pushed Kirk back a few steps.
“Where are your manners, Captain? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your Number One?”
“Oh - yeah, of course! Spock, as I’m sure you’ve deduced - this is Marlena. I met her my first year at the Academy. After proving she could kick my ass from here ‘til Tuesday, she proceeded to be the thorn in my side that kept me from goofing off with my studies.”
“You should be thanking me for your captaincy, you know,” Lieutenant Moreau added, although she was looking at Spock. She assumed a sober expression, as she raised her hand in the ta’al. “Tonk-peh, Commander Spock.”
Spock nodded tightly, still unsure of his voice. He flicked a look between Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Moreau, noticing that while Jim’s brow furrowed slightly, his bodyguard appeared unaffected by the silence.
Kirk cleared his throat. “Uh, Spock?” He peered down at Spock’s hands.
With a shallow breath Spock followed Jim’s line of sight. In his fists was a mangled piece of sparking wires and plastic, which had once resembled a PADD.
“Excuse me,” Spock murmured, and turned on his heel.
And in that very moment, without the benefit of logic, Spock firmly decided that he did not approve of Marlena Moreau.
*
The Captain’s shouts eradicated Spock’s stray thoughts, as he dropped the Romulan officer with a crushing pinch to the brachial plexus. Spock whipped around and was down the corridor before the Romulan had hit the ground. Hallways blurred past Spock as he negotiated the inner workings of the foreign ship. The Captain had to be close - and Spock would save him in time. That was the only outcome Spock would allow himself to consider.
Spock burst through the cargo bay, just in time to see Lieutenant Moreau deliver a swift roundhouse kick to the face of a teetering Romulan. He toppled onto his face with a resounding crack and lay unconscious, alongside two other crumpled bodies.
Captain Kirk - who had been guarding her back with his phaser on stun - turned and placed a hand on the Lieutenant’s shoulder. He heaved a breath of relief and murmured, “Impressive,” in her ear.
Moreau dusted her hands off on her hips and shrugged. “Doing my job, C-.”
“Captain.”
Two pairs of eyes swung towards Spock. One dark pair remained unreadable, while the other’s lit up.
“Spock.” A slow smile crept over Kirk’s face, as he took long strides to reach him. Spock met him halfway.
“Are you injured, Captain?”
“I’m fine.” Kirk’s gaze swept down Spock’s torso, and back up. “You?”
“I remain unscathed,” Spock replied, proud to have masked the unexplainable quake in his diction.
“Good.” Kirk searched Spock’s face for a mere second, then jerked his head to both Moreau and Spock. “Let’s get out of here.”
Lieutenant Moreau and Spock fell into step beside their Captain, an officer on either side. If Spock walked with more haste than usual, it was because of the state of their emergency, and not because he was testing the Lieutenant’s ability to keep in step with him. Which she did, and without complaint.
Kirk’s face was flushed with exertion, which only served to highlight the alertness in his eyes. “Scotty’s disabled their warp-drive. They’ll limp home on impulse power, while we book it outta here.”
“Aye, Captain,” both Moreau and Spock simultaneously replied. Spock shot her a curdling look, but Moreau’s attention was focused on the Captain.
“Transporter room’s likely to be packed with Romulans, sir.”
Captain Kirk nodded tersely as they approached the doors. “Probably - but with our communicators on the blitz and contact with the Enterprise obliterated, it’s our only choice.” He grinned at Moreau as the three of them paused in front of the transporter room entrance. “Besides, you just downed three Romulans on your own. I think you’ll be fine.”
Lieutenant Moreau’s brows shot up. “I was more concerned about you getting your ass handed to you... Sir.”
The Captain snorted a disbelieving laugh. Spock’s lips tightened. He refrained from reminding Kirk that he had disabled five Romulans on Nero’s ship. Five futuristic Romulans.
The fact that he even considered making mention of his accomplishments had Spock’s jaw clenching. And when the sliding doors whisked open, Spock utilised every ounce of vexation and confusion on six unsuspecting Romulans.
*
“The both of you can get the hell out of my sickbay this inst -”
“I have every right to be here, Doctor,” Moreau icily enunciated. Her feet were planted down firmly, with her arms crossed beneath her bosom. “My every responsibility revolves around the Captain - that does not supersede sitting at his bedside. Commander Spock, on the other hand -“
Spock narrowed his eyes, his nostrils flaring.
“Has his duties on the bridge. He has a ship to run. I do not. So,” she concluded, her impassive expression indicating that she would not be moved. Spock briefly entertained the idea of hauling the woman over his shoulder and tossing her into a containment chamber. He merely stood straighter.
Dr. McCoy scowled and looked between the two of them. One officer stood on either side of the bed where Kirk lay pale and prone. For a moment, Spock speculated that he would escort both of them out of the sickbay, which he was prepared to accept.
Instead, McCoy sighed and squeezed the back of his neck. “Marlena’s right, Spock. You’ve got better things to do than watch Jim sleep. I don’t even know why you’re making such a goddamn fuss about it. He ain’t gonna heal any faster while you’re sittin’ around.”
While the statement was correct, it still caused a tremor of unknown origin to ride through his bones. Spock had no logical argument to that. With Lieutenant Moreau at his captain’s side, he could not dispute that he would be ill-treated. When had that ever been an issue on the Enterprise?
“Very well,” he replied tightly. Refusing to look at the lieutenant or the doctor, Spock found himself walking away from Jim once more.
*
“Good morning,” a voice purred.
Every person - not including Spock - jerked their head up to greet Lieutenant Moreau with a word or a smile. Even Dr. McCoy. Spock sullenly stared at his granola, and unconsciously scooted half an inch closer to his captain. Their shoulders brushed companionably.
Moreau sat across from them and took a dainty bite of her toast. Red lips curled faintly as she inspected Captain Kirk. “Looks like Doc Country already cleaned up your shiner.”
McCoy muttered under his breath about training exercises gone awry, as Spock frowned and looked to Kirk.
The Captain was grinning and gingerly prodding his eye. “I’ve had worse.”
The lieutenant made an emphatic noise of agreement, as she sipped her coffee and nodded. She leaned across the table, her short dark hair falling to frame her feline features. “Like that time you tried to feel me up while I was sleeping and -“
“And you proceeded to nearly break my arm with a kamura submission.” Jim winced. “Yeah - how can I forget? By the way!” He pointed an accusing finger, “You were so awake. Just very drunk. I’m not some creeper who -“
From the end of the table Uhura cut in with, “I’m going to have to stop you right there, Captain. Did you, or did you not, grope me in a bar while I was least suspecting it?”
“Would you have been okay with it had you expected it?” Kirk fired back with an undaunted grin.
Spock fought the urge to hunch his shoulders and shut out the line of conversation. Despite over ten months of growing accustomed to the mess-hall chatter, he was grossly unprepared for this form of banter. In addition, it was now confirmed that his Captain had been - was? - attracted to Lieutenant Moreau.
The fact that this knowledge upset him was not the most unnerving aspect of the situation. The emotion could be reined in and tamed, tucked away and ignored. What truly irritated Spock was Lieutenant Moreau’s presence, and the consequent attention that his Captain paid to her. Expressions he had grown to assume were for him alone became shared. Reminiscing between Moreau and Kirk - while not occurring on shift - was commonplace off duty. Spock and Kirk’s chess matches still occurred with regularity, but at some point that Spock could not discern they had become somewhat unsatisfying. Spock wished for more.
What irked Spock was that, because of Moreau, he experienced the urge to regard James Kirk as his property. He begrudgingly recognised this as an unhealthy thought process.
But Spock’s dilemma remained: He understood his misplaced attraction towards his captain. He was cognisant of the probability that mixing their relationships would be disastrous. Spock had resigned himself to the fact that he could not pursue such an illogical path.
Unfortunately, Spock’s Human half refused to acknowledge the logic. The heart was not a logical organ. At the end of this puzzling equation was the only solution his heart could focus on: Jim belonged beside Spock.
A familiar voice was soft in his ear, and Spock could feel the cool breath whisk across his earlobe. “Spock.”
He blinked from his reverie, and angled to inspect Kirk. “Captain?”
Kirk searched his face, flame-blue eyes leaving pools of heat on Spock’s cheeks. Then Kirk offered a small smile that Spock had never previously witnessed, it was almost shy. “Just making sure you were with us.”
Something akin to relief washed through Spock’s limbs and left him mildly light-headed. Careful to keep his composure, Spock raised a brow. “I am plainly here with you, Jim.”
“Yeah.” Kirk turned back to the bustling breakfast table. Spock heard him say once more, under his breath, “Yeah.”
*
“I did not take you for a coward,” Lieutenant Moreau breathlessly commented as she snapped the thick neck of an Elasian guard.
Spock clenched his jaw and side-stepped the forward stab of a giant spear. “What?” he bit off, as he clutched the Elasian’s wrist in his fist and shattered the assailant’s Scaphoid bone. The weapon clattered to the floor, with the sound drowned out by the howling Elasian.
Moreau wrinkled her nose at the guard in distaste, and delivered a neat palm thrust to the man’s nose. It was more likely that he lost consciousness due to pain rather than any serious mortal injury.
“Playing dumb reflects poorly on you,” the Lieutenant replied as she stepped over a corpse and began marching towards the ship’s bridge. “You have done nothing to stake a claim on the Captain.”
A stab of panic pierced Spock’s chest as he fought back a snarl. “The Captain belongs to no one, Lieutenant, and I have no wish to alter that.”
Moreau shrugged lightly and remained impassively silent as they swiftly traversed the poorly-lit corridors. A door opened and an Elasian guard hurtled towards her.
The Lieutenant reported, “Jim is my friend,” as she shifted from his path, flung out an elbow, and caught the man beneath his chin. “One of my only friends at the Academy.” Although the man had not been incapacitated, she walked on by the stumbling enemy.
Spock frowned as he passed the Elasian, only bothering with a quick nerve pinch as he curtly said, “I did not ask for the rationalisations of your intrusive actions.”
“In addition,” Moreau added, daring to shoot a quelling look over her shoulder. “I have a theory that you would suit each other, and that Captain Kirk is aware of this.”
Spock bit back a scowl as they quickly approached a turbolift. Undoubtedly this would reach the bridge. “Your guesses are of no interest to me,” he grumbled as the door shifted open and welcomed them in. He and Moreau slipped inside in tandem, turning to face each other in what could only be described as a standoff.
Moreau snapped, “Bridge,” and the turbolift whizzed to life. Her eye sparked with amber annoyance for a moment, but was swiftly replaced with familiar stony assertiveness. “Commander, has it occurred to you that if you wait too long, that someone else will come along with a stronger spine and a braver heart than you?”
She may as well have punched Spock in the throat for all the surprise that pummelled him.
The essence of Spock’s apprehension recognised Moreau’s words as truth, and in turn Spock was rendered speechless.
The turbolift door swept aside behind Moreau, and she casually backed out without dropping eye contact. Her gaze was flinty and her smile stone cold as she murmured, “Hell, now that we’re talking about it - maybe I would be good for him.”
Spock swiftly yanked his phaser from his hip, aimed and fired within seconds.
The shot rocketed past Lieutenant Moreau’s ear and plugged an Elasian in the back of the neck. He dropped like a stone before Captain Kirk’s feet. Kirk whipped his fight-brightened gaze to find Spock - and smiled.
Spock inclined his chin in recognition, but his stare was fastidiously fixed upon Moreau’s mutely astonished expression. He holstered his weapon and swept past the Lieutenant, murmuring, “Concentrate on your job if you’re to be of any use to my Captain.”
*
“I shall lead you to your quarters,” the Stratosian girl announced meekly.
“I request a room with -” Spock began.
“I’ll be rooming with -” Moreau said at the same time. They didn’t spare a single glance to each other. The Captain looked between them and appeared decidedly amused.
Spock shifted minutely closer to Kirk’s side. “It is logical that we keep the same quarters, so that we may discuss the mission together.”
“It is logical that his personal bodyguard room with him,” Lieutenant Moreau explained to the Stratosian. There was a breathy air of exasperation in her voice that had Spock proudly inclining his chin.
Captain Kirk pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. When he looked at the Stratosian however, he radiated ease and a cordial smile. “I apologise, Droxine. Do you, by any chance, have adjoining rooms?”
The thin girl nodded and returned the smile. “Of course, Captain Kirk. Anything for an honoured guest.”
“Thank you.”
The moment their hostess turned her back, Captain Kirk shot his officers a dark look that insinuated they were not to speak a word. Spock quirked a brow and remained silent.
When the door to their rooms shut behind them, the Captain whirled. “First off, I will not have two of my best officers bickering like school children in front our hosts. It makes you, me and the Federation look like unprofessional ingrates. Second -” he paused, and his posture relaxed enough for him to fling his hands up, “What the hell?”
Spock sent a sidelong glance to Lieutenant Moreau. She was imitating his stance, with hands neatly behind her back and her spine ramrod straight. She looked back at him with flashing feline eyes. Neither of them spoke.
Captain Kirk ran his tongue across his teeth, considering them both with a glint in his gaze. Then he clapped his hands together once, indicating his decision had been made. “Okay. How about this? I’m sleeping alone. You two get the double bedroom. That -” he added, pointing specifically at Spock, “is an order. Work this thing out.”
His Captain strode through the adjoining door and left them both staring after him, impassively dumbfounded.
Lieutenant Moreau was the first to speak. She placed her hands on her hips and arched an eyebrow. Her tone was deceptively agreeable. Spock had heard her use that voice when talking down an aggressive Klingon - moments before she snapped his arm.
“Do you have something to tell me, Commander?”
“No, Lieutenant. I do not.”
“The Captain seems to think you do, and I’m inclined to agree.”
“Your inclinations are not my concern. If you will excuse m -”
“You know,” Moreau began, her dark stare clinging to Spock. “We are very similar, you and I.”
Spock found himself unable to hold her gaze, as he looked past her ear and lied. “Fortunately, I have not perceived any congruence between our characters.”
The fallacy left a bitter taste on his tongue, because he had indeed noted their various physical and intellectual parallels on several occasions. In fact, it was this knowledge which left a nauseous weight in Spock’s stomach.
Marlena Moreau was an extremely Human - and female - version of himself, on several levels. For Jim to pursue a relationship with the Lieutenant would be the logical route of action - and the path of least resistance and complication.
The knowledge made Spock’s entire body clench like a fist.
“Of course not,” Lieutenant Moreau waved off Spock’s obvious denial. Her stance was stiff, and her glower barely tamed. “May I speak freely, Commander?”
“I presumed you had already begun.”
Moreau’s lips twitched once, and then her expression shuttered. Her voice was flat. “Let me be frank. I am utterly unconcerned with gaining your approval. Despite your rank, it is not my job to cater to you or your needs. The safety of Captain Kirk is my only concern aboard the Enterprise, and I am confident that I accomplish my duties with efficiency and tact. But you -” Moreau paused to laugh dryly and shake her head. “You, Commander Spock, make my job difficult.”
“That is highly improbable. In fact, I hypothesise that your position onboard the Enterprise is essentially obsolete. Before your placement with the crew our missions remained successful. Before Captain Kirk had a specific guardian, such as you, he remained safe.”
Spock clasped his hands at the small of his back - and felt his left thumb lose blood and go numb, from the manner in which the rest of his fist had gripped around it. “Had it not occurred to you, Lieutenant Moreau, that it had previously been my obligation to care for the Captain?”
The Lieutenant visibly flinched, and blinked up at Spock with exaggerated lethargy. It was as if she had woken from a particularly startling dream. And then, for no discernable reason, her features began to relax, one by one. The skin of her brow smoothed, her eyes softened, and her lips slowly curled into a smile.
“You are in love with him.”
Spock snapped, “Absolutely not,” before he could curtain the gust of desperation that whipped through him.
Moreau shrugged, but there was a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “Maybe not. I’ve never been good at comprehending deep affection myself, so I could be incorrect. But I don’t believe I am. Did you hear yourself, Commander?”
Not trusting his words, Spock settled for a blank stare. A shiver prickled at his back.
“You told me it was your obligation to care for the Captain. Care. Not guard or advise.”
“Recognise your rank, Lieutenant,” Spock hedged.
Moreau’s unpainted lips parted, and then closed as if she’d reconsidered her stance. She nodded brusquely. “Understood, sir. I’ll just go check up on the Captain.” The look she aimed Spock’s way glittered with mirth. “If that’s okay by you, of course.”
Spock inclined his chin very slightly. “You are not troubled?”
“By?” The Lieutenant appeared to be growing impatient with the line of conversation.
“By my...” Spock could not bring himself to speak the words. He straightened and stared ahead. “Forgive my intrusion, but do you not experience similar - do you not experience, as you say, an affection for the Captain?”
The Lieutenant frowned. “I suppose.”
Spock’s heart clutched in a painful spasm that he could not control. “I see,” he replied quietly.
“We’ve been friends for years. James Kirk isn’t the kind of person you can just forget about,” Moreau said with a shadow of a smile. “Suffocating ego and brazen disregard for regulations aside, he’s a decent human being. And you know what?”
“What?” Spock croaked. He was astonished he still had the capacity for logical speech.
Moreau’s jabbed Spock’s upper arm with a short, direct punch. Before Spock could fully jerk away from the unexpected contact, Moreau said, “He is an even better person around you, Spock.”
Spock’s thoughts floundered - and as he attempted to gain a slippery grasp on any proper reply, Lieutenant Moreau’s communicator signalled an incoming message. She turned away from Spock and flipped open the device.
“Moreau here.”
“Marlena,” Doctor McCoy barked. “Jim just checked in with the bridge and sounded awful pissy. Said it wasn’t anythin’ that concerned the mission, though. The hell’s goin’ on down there?”
Spock experienced surprise when the Lieutenant laughed. She meandered toward the ceiling-length expanse of windows, and cheerfully commented, “Has anyone ever mentioned that you’re a shameless gossip? Were you, by chance, mistaken for a girl in the first six years of your life and dressed in taffeta and gingha-”
“Cut the foreplay woman, and tell me if Jim’s okay,” the doctor snapped. Spock’s eyebrows rocketed up.
“He is fine. Stop playing the mother hen, Doc. Go do something other than loiter the bridge, or I’ll have to escort you off when I return.”
Sputtering emanated from the receiver, and Spock caught sight of Moreau’s profile as she shifted. She was smiling broadly. McCoy began to grumble about the travesty that was his life, but the Lieutenant promptly closed the communicator on him.
When her attention returned to Spock her face was hard, but her eyes were subdued. “Oh - and Commander? Don’t assume that because I’m female that I will automatically desire a relationship with Jim.” Moreau’s smile was predatory. “I tend to prefer... well, I keep my options open.”
*
“It’s your move, Spock.”
He knew that, of course. Spock had never faced a personal dilemma of this particular calibre.
“Spock?”
The choice to pursue Kirk was now his. Lieutenant Moreau appeared to support him in his venture - a most unexpected turn of events. But simply because she deemed it safe territory did not imply there would not be obstacles to face.
A light kick under the table had Spock inwardly jolting back to reality. He met Kirk’s expectant expression with artificial calm.
Kirk cocked his head and offered a quizzical smile. “You okay?”
“I am well, Captain.”
“Sure?”
“I am certain.”
The Captain shrugged and gestured to the chessboard laid out before them. “Then make your move, Commander.”
Spock considered the board. He could manoeuvre his knights in a circular attack - but the victory would take longer to achieve. Or he could simply barrel through with his queen. He would lose several pieces in the process, but he could claim a definitive win.
“Okay, I’m saying this as a friend, so don’t get all stoically pissy - but you’re acting really weird. Like, not even Vulcan-weird. Just weird-weird.”
Spock almost smiled at Kirk’s inelegant use of vernacular. “It is not my intention to unnerve you.”
Kirk’s nimble fingers fiddled with a pawn. “I’m not unnerved. Just - what’s on your mind?” His gaze was earnest and open, an expression Spock had come to cherish despite the illogic of the emotion.
Captain Kirk did not look at people in such a manner. He was charismatic and clever by nature, but never unguarded. It had taken several months for Spock to realise that Kirk trusted others as little as Spock did - perhaps less than he did, considering Spock’s assumption that people were not ‘good’ or ‘bad’, but simply a reflection of their current circumstances.
“I admit I am uncertain how to express what I am experiencing.”
“I think that just means you’re a normal, healthy guy,” Kirk said with a smile. “We never know what to say, and we never say it at the right time.”
Spock nodded with a hint of reluctance. “Indeed.”
He had never been considered average by any standard. Spock had always been singled out, or bullied, or commended for his idiosyncrasies. Apparently Captain Kirk regarded him as... an emotional equal? Certainly that could be considered a minor success.
“Look, Spock.” Kirk leaned in, and their toes bumped beneath the table. “All I’m saying is that if something’s bothering you, I’m here and stuff. I’m not gonna... judge you, or whatever it is that you might think of me.”
Spock hurriedly assured him, “I do not think ill of you, Captain.”
“Oh. Well - good.” The Captain nodded to himself, his gaze falling to the board between them.
“Do you - ” Spock paused when Kirk’s head jerked up. The intensity in those eyes almost discomforted him. Spock took a quiet breath and powered forward. “You rarely seem at a loss for words, Captain. In fact, I believe you are considered particularly loquacious by even Human standards.”
The Captain raised his eyebrows and breathed a soft laugh. “Okay - and?”
“And I was curious which emotions you experience that leave you at a loss for proper explanation.”
Kirk slouched back in his chair, one hand unconsciously massaging the nape of his neck. He squinted at Spock in rumination. “I dunno. I can’t say I particularly categorise my emotions. They come hard and leave quickly.” He grinned. “Story of my life.”
Spock was not going to begin analysing that statement.
He also found that he could not empathise with Kirk’s management of emotions. Whereas Kirk allowed his feelings to wash over him like a forceful tide, then allowed them to dissipate as if it was all utterly normal - Spock experienced the opposite conditions.
His emotions crept upon him, stealthily seeping into his thoughts and colouring his decisions before Spock could fully comprehend it. He was so accustomed to delegating his feelings to dark corners, that Spock genuinely could not label his emotions when he did shine a light upon them. To so harshly illuminate Spock’s... endearment towards Kirk was disconcerting.
Spock could not begin to analyse his feelings on the situation, but perhaps he could attempt to gauge Kirk’s standpoint. Unfortunately, there were no scientific means by which to calculate Kirk’s regard for him - and the only person Spock had been able to successfully read had been his mother.
Spock had no concrete facts to work off of. He was not a coward, but he was not a fool either. One misstep could lead to disaster - not just in their painstakingly-constructed friendship, but within the professional string of command as well.
Indeed, Kirk made Spock feel both normal and unique - accepted, yet still special as an individual. Spock believed that he could be content with this for the entirely of his service abroad the Enterprise.
But what if...
Spock had encountered several ‘what if’ moments in his life. What if he had lashed out against his bullies and stood up for himself? What if he had chosen an untrodden path and attended Starfleet Academy rather than the VSA? What if he had taken a chance and trusted his ferociously dauntless First Officer to have his back in the heart of an enemy Romulan vessel?
What if...
“Spock?”
Spock blinked and peered up from the checkered board, meeting Kirk’s intense, inquisitive gaze. “I believe the move is still mine.”
Kirk grinned and folded his arms as he leaned back. “Yeah, no shit man. My granny could beat me faster than this.”
Spock’s lips would have twitched had he not been intent on sliding a pawn two squares forward - and, consequently, playing it safe.
*
“Somebody’s birthday is coming up,” Nyota sing-songed as she slid beside Spock in the mess.
Kirk looked up from the PADD he’d brought to breakfast, a piece of toast hanging from his mouth as he blinked at Nyota from across the table. His eyes appeared unnaturally large and innocent. In the case of Captain James Kirk this was alarming, considering the man’s proclivities.
For a moment, Spock could not place why Kirk would be attempting to look guiltless. But after mentally filing through the upcoming birthdays of the bridge crew, Spock could only come up with one man.
Apparently Doctor McCoy had arrived at the same conclusion, as he snorted derisively into his coffee and grumbled, “Boy’s not interested in one of your barn-burners.”
“I didn’t ask you for your opinion,” Nyota quipped without malice. A neat, black nail pointedly directly at Kirk, who was chewing too-slowly. “And I didn’t ask you either. We’re having a party and that’s that. Pavel is dying for one since his past birthday, and we’re not denying him. You can’t keep a Russian away from his liquid shenanigans. Trust me, I’m a linguist - I know these things.”
Kirk scowled, but did not look particularly upset with the set of party orders. “What does your being a linguist have to do with anything?”
“Everything,” Nyota replied soberly, and popped a grape into her mouth.
“Last time you said, ‘trust me, I’m a linguist’, we ended up naked and nearly thrown into a volcano.”
McCoy sputtered a laugh into his coffee.
Nyota looked vaguely insulted. “I honestly don’t see how that had anything to do with me.”
“Who’s having a party?” Lieutenant Moreau chimed in as she slid beside Captain Kirk, directly across from Spock. For the first time, Moreau wore a traditional female Starfleet dress uniform, coupled with sturdy calf-high boots. The material clung to the curves which had been hidden for months behind black men’s slacks and a tunic.
Normally, Spock would not take particular note of an officer’s dress as long as it was up to code. The only difference in this case being the manner in which Moreau supported her breasts upon her arm, and angled her chest towards Kirk.
Spock futilely attempted to swallow down the knot in his throat when Kirk chewed contemplatively on his toast, and raised his eyebrows at the Lieutenant’s displayed cleavage.
On the opposite of the Captain, Doctor McCoy’s face went red and he went uncharacteristically silent. Neither Moreau nor Nyota appeared to notice, as they became engrossed in party preparation talk.
And when Lieutenant Moreau aimed a quick wink Spock’s way, his fork snapped in his hand as he excused himself from the table.
*
“You need to go behind that curtain,” was the first thing Spock was greeted with when he stepped into the recreational room, where Captain Kirk’s celebration was being held. Doctor McCoy’s face glowered in Spock’s, and he looked to be the very opposite of enjoying himself.
Cheerful music jostled amongst the rainbow-hued balloons and the sweet smell of cake and sweets. People were laughing and chatting in groups here and there, while Kirk leaned against the back wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He appeared to be waiting for people to come to him.
Spock felt extremely uncomfortable. Ill, even.
He wished to go to Kirk’s side, as he always did. Spock wanted to stand at Kirk’s hip - their arms brushing as they tended to do - and listen to what the Captain had to say about this party. Kirk had kept surprisingly quiet about his opinions regarding the celebration of his birthday. It was very possible that he was acquiescing with everyone’s wishes and putting their needs and wants above his own. Despite what most people had thought - and Spock, for a time - Captain Kirk was not an entirely selfish man. He could not be a successful captain otherwise.
But instead of joining his captain, Spock was being hustled behind a tall, wide curtain in the corner of the room which no doubt concealed some form of birthday surprise. Spock could fully comprehend why Vulcans refrained from celebrating such a day. It was taxing, and a superfluous use of time.
Spock reminded himself that this was for Kirk however, and so he did not quarrel with Doctor McCoy. Instead he gave a brusque nod, weaved through the small crowds, and snuck behind the curtain.
And was assaulted with the sight of Lieutenant Marlena Moreau clad in nothing but black lingerie, stockings, garters and heels.
She was also climbing a ladder in order to -
Unfortunately , Spock could only imagine it was in order to step inside the largest artificial cake he had ever seen. Truly, Spock had never contemplated such a pastry, fake or not, could exist. More than one person could hunch inside, as the cake was easily six feet across the base and five feet tall.
Why was all Spock could think, as he watched Moreau teeter on stilettos as she attempted to step safely inside the dessert.
Why would anyone want to be involved with something so laughably ridiculous and useless? Truly it was moments like these in which Spock marvelled how Humans were a dominant race throughout the universe.
“What are you doing?” Spock inquired, finding himself clinging to some impossible shred of hope.
Lieutenant Moreau flinched in surprise, but made no noise as she stood straighter upon the rungs of the ladder and glanced over her shoulder. For a moment she looked undeniably stunning - smoky eyes and unpainted lips, pale skin and enunciated curves - and then she blew her bangs out of her eyes and blandly inquired. “What are you doing?”
Spock fisted his hands behind his back. “I was sent to... I confess I have no inkling why. Enlighten me as to your activities.”
Moreau raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to get into this cake, and when it’s unveiled I’m going to pop out and give Jim a lapdance.” At Spock’s mute stare, Moreau’s shoulders hunched in exasperation. “I mean I’m going to writhe on Captain Kirk’s lap like an animal in heat as a birthday gift.”
“You are not,” Spock snapped, quicker than his own mind could comprehend. The words spat out before Spock could swallow them - and now he found himself digging his nails into his palms as he battled a glower.
Lieutenant Moreau did not appear deterred. She barked a short, unattractive laugh and shrugged. “You can’t give me an order on this, Commander. This has nothing to do with duty. Anyway -” Moreau offered a tight, closed-mouth smile before she committed herself once more with dropping down into the cake, “You don’t want him, so I believe I will have a taste. It’s been a long time, and I’m sure Jim has become more delicious with age.”
Spock saw red, and it was not from the tiny bows on Moreau’s lingerie. He bit back a snarl as the Lieutenant gave a cocky salute and disappeared within the cake.
It didn’t take long for Spock to vault up the ladder and glare down into the shadowy hollow. Spock’s voice rumbled like thunder of an impending storm. “Get. Out.”
Lieutenant Moreau hummed in thought and licked her lips slowly, as she peered up at him. “Make me,” she murmured lowly.
Spock would. He was not above pulling this ingrate out of this awful, disturbing cake and putting an end to this lunacy. Kirk was not interested in Lieutenant Moreau - or, no. That was incorrect. Spock was not conclusively certain of this. It was entirely plausible that whatever the Lieutenant had planned for tonight would alter Kirk’s perception of her - and possibly extinguish any feelings Kirk might have for Spock.
And that would not happen. Jim was Spock’s. Spock’s to protect and empathise with and be happy with.
This was why Spock was shoving himself into the cake, and consequently crushing himself in beside Lieutenant Moreau. She elbowed him and hissed, “What are you - get out.”
“I will depart when you do.”
“Just what kind of Vulcan are you?”
Before Spock could comment, Moreau was hopping up and lifting herself out of the cake with an arm-strength that would have been legitimately impressive, were it not for the current situation. As it stood, Spock frowned up at Moreau’s lace-clad posterior and waited for her to move aside so he could also get out. His initial anger had subsided more to a dull, throbbing annoyance that left him feeling snappish and sour.
Of course, that changed when the lid to the cake was promptly closed atop his head, and Spock was plunged into darkness.
“Moreau,” was the first word that shot from Spock’s mouth as he reached up and pressed his palms against the ceiling. Then he realised he would not wish to break Kirk’s birthday gift, whether or not Spock approved of it - and so remained hunched and uncomfortable within the cake.
Spock gritted his teeth as he felt his face go ablaze with fury. By the fires of Mount Seleya, imprisoned in a cake.
From behind the wall of artificial dessert, Spock heard Lieutenant Moreau say, “You win, Spock. You wanted him, you fought for him, and now you better take him - because if you don’t I will have worn this ridiculous outfit for nothing.”
Doctor McCoy’s voice chimed in. “I dunno, I think you should keep it. Was the only good thing t’come of this damn fool plan a’yours. At least now I don’t haveta pretend like we’re not datin’.”
“Watch it, Doc,” Moreau warned, “Or you will not be appreciating this outfit like you had hoped.”
In the proceeding silence Spock snapped, “I will tear this cake to shreds if you do not release me.”
Moreau sighed. “And I had assumed you would be less irate after this. Spock, count to three and pop out.”
“What? What?” Spock would have to pop out of this in front of -
No.
Around him, the boisterous crowd began to sing an out-of-tune rendition of the Happy Birthday Song - and Spock had to get out of here now. Panic gripped his throat and threatened to plug his air supply as he unceremoniously stood straight and stiff, and consequently burst through the thin roof of the cake. Spock blinked rapidly as green and white splotches appeared before his eyes from the bright cabin lights.
“Happy Biiirthday tooo,” everyone’s song seemed to take a turn for the high-pitched and curious as Spock appeared. “You?”
Captain’s Kirk face-splitting grin faded into a puzzled smile as he cocked his head and met Spock’s gaze from across the room. On instinct, Spock fisted his hands behind his back and managed an acceptable parade rest. Regardless his cheeks burned, and he fought the overwhelming desire to duck into the cake and wait for the dozens of pairs of eyes to lose their fix upon him.
But that was not an option. The celebratory crowd’s murmurs of approval or surprise were quickly fading, and the moment was singularly reduced to Spock and Kirk.
“Spock?” Kirk inquired. He was not leaning back now, but standing tall and poised for action. His expression was imploring, and his smile edged with nerves as if he could sense Spock’s own state of discontent.
Spock parted his lips to concoct some form of automatic excuse, when he noted Lieutenant Moreau near Kirk’s side. She wore a simple, boxy dress of red - and was glowering at Spock with a force that only a female Human could produce. Her expression was, in a word, foreboding.
And so Spock swallowed his apprehension and chose the path less travelled - but also the path that did not lead to physical violence thrust upon him by a lower officer.
“Happy Birthday,” Spock choked out quietly. He sucked in a breath and met Kirk’s eyes. “Jim.”
Jim’s demeanour opened up like storm clouds breaking beneath the sun. White teeth flashed with bright warmth as Jim burst into motion, and began to weave through the crowd towards the cake.
There was barely enough time for Spock to catch Doctor McCoy’s muttered, “Well I’ll be damned,” and Lieutenant Moreau’s, “I am so talented,” before everyone turned to Jim and clapped, wishing him muddled congratulations for another successful year of life.
It was obvious to Spock that Jim did not hear a word spoken by his crew - and, truthfully, Spock also felt deaf. When Jim approached the base of the cake and peered up at him with an smirk, it was all Spock could do from going mute as well.
He cleared his throat. “I was coerced.”
Jim raised his eyebrows and snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I kinda figured that one out. Still...” His mouth sobered and his eyes narrowed faintly.
Spock dignified Jim’s need for recognition with a slow nod. “Still,” he affirmed around the lump in his throat.
Still, Spock had gone through with it. Despite the manner in which he had come to be entrapped in the ridiculous cake, it had been Spock’s choice to embrace the moment. To seize the day and, consequently, James Kirk.
Perhaps that was an uncharacteristic confidence - assuming that their relationship would progress further from this point. But Spock would not have taken the position as First Officer of the youngest, most brash captain in Starfleet history if Spock did not have some faith.
It also encouraged Spock’s hope that Jim was currently climbing the tiers of the cake to reach him.
“What are you -“
Jim popped up before him, his fingers gripping the edge of the recess Spock stood in. He grinned and leaned in, his dusky eyelashes lowering briefly before he flicked his gaze back up to Spock’s miffed expression. “I have to admit that when you popped up from this god-awful cake, I thought you’d evacuate the room faster than a Code Red. It was a... nice surprise.”
Spock’s gaze flitted to Jim’s smile and back to his eyes. “I am pleased that you enjoyed it.”
“Spock, do you know what else I’d like for my birthday?”
“I confess I do not,” Spock admitted, and refused to let his cheeks heat any further. He felt himself sway towards Jim and abruptly righted himself.
“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and ask for something that I’ve wanted for a while now. I’ve always been greedy,” Jim informed him with a demanding air. His eyes boldly held Spock’s as he drifted forward, his body arcing toward Spock like a flower to sunlight. “A birthday kiss. Which will, ah - you know - hopefully lead to various other kisses not exclusive to celebrations, and indulged in rather often.”
Spock clenched his hands behind his back to keep from reaching out for Jim in public. Instead he swallowed back a wave of dizziness, cocked his head, and - in the coolest tone achievable - replied, “Of course, Captain. But please, not in front of the crew members.”
Jim’s eyes widened before he released a peal of laughter that had several new eyes curiously searching them out. While Jim did not appear concerned, Spock certainly was. He was about to suggest taking this... conversation somewhere else, or perhaps waiting until the end of the party, when Lieutenant Moreau appeared behind Jim. With a barest curve of a smug smile, she snapped the large curtain shut - and then Jim and Spock were alone.
“Who was...” Jim murmured as he looked over his shoulder with a furrowed brow.
“Lieutenant Moreau,” Spock replied, his attention clinging to the corded muscle of Jim’s neck.
“Really? Well, tell her I say thanks.” A slow, intimate smile teased the corners of Jim’s mouth as he draped his arms over Spock’s shoulders. It was awkward - Spock inside the infernal cake and Jim outside. But their chests, shoulders and arms were close and comforting, and Spock revelled in the unfamiliar white heat that knotted in his stomach.
“Spock?” Jim asked, his lips brushing Spock’s jaw.
“Hm?” was all Spock could manage, as his pulse reigned over his entire body.
“Kiss me now.”
Spock was unsure who moved first. In fact, they both swayed toward each other in tandem. Jim’s lips were lush and welcoming, and surprisingly gentle as he hummed his approval into Spock’s mouth. Doubts and insecurities sparked, popped and dissipated between them like a crackling fire - leaving them only warm and assurance.
Strong, sure fingers threaded through Spock’s hair and held their foreheads close long after their short, sweet kiss had completed. Spock knew when Jim opened his eyes because he could feel the soft sweep of his lashes tickle Spock’s closed eyelids.
Jim released a long, shuddering breath that ended on a chuckle. His palms slid to the nape of Spock’s neck and lightly squeezed. “You really need to thank Marlena - I really need to thank Marlena.”
Spock was glad for the close proximity of their faces, as he could allow himself a brief twitch of lips.
“Marlena Moreau is indeed a competent individual.”
Rating: PG-13
Series: STXI
Length: ~8,000
Warnings: Cake as a plot device.
Summary: All Spock needs is a little momentum towards his Captain. And as much as he abhors to admit it, Lieutenant Marlena Moreau is just the person to provide a push - or, when necessary, a punch.
Disclaimer: Somewhere over the slash rainbow of my mind, it happened. But not in Kansas, sadly.
A/N: Posting to my journal for archive purposes. Already posted to the Universal Constant Vol.1: A Kirk/Spock Reboot Online Zine in January 2011.
“Well, Mr. Spock - had someone informed me eight months ago that I’d spend my first shore leave back home with a Vulcan, I’d have thought they were bullshitting me.”
Spock spared his captain a droll look, but it was in good humour that their eyes locked. “I emphatically agree.”
Kirk’s eyes brightened with surprise, and the consequent laugh skittered lightly across Spock’s skin. It was the only way he would ever experience the phenomenon of prickling flesh, known plainly as ‘goosebumps’.
Willing away the reaction, Spock trained is attention to the PADD in his hands. Before the Enterprise departed Earth’s space-dock, a new recruit would be joining the crew. Ensign Salna had been killed in action, and their security team was a person short.
In addition, Yeoman Rand required relief as she went on maternity leave. It appeared that aphrodisiacal pollen was seriously hampering their missions, as this was the second pollen-related pregnancy to plague the Enterprise.
Within the constraints of his mind, Spock admitted that he found Starfleet’s solution to their crew shortage a bit unusual. Rather than assigning two new members, they assigned a single lieutenant. One who would, essentially, act as a personal bodyguard for the Captain and as a yeoman. Those were two entirely diverse roles to fill for one person, but Spock would not question the word of the Federation. From the background check he’d performed upon their arrival to San Francisco, Spock could not fault the decision.
Marlena Moreau appeared to be a competent individual.
“So,” Kirk’s voice rose above the din of the crowded shuttle hangar. “Who’s this bodyguard, again? I already feel sorry for the poor guy.”
“Her name is Mar -”
A raspy, feminine voice drawled, “Jimmy fucking Kirk, where the hell have you been?”
Spock found himself scrutinising the curvaceous female swaggering towards them in a traditionally Human male uniform. As Kirk whooped with raucous pleasure and plucked her off her feet in a spinning embrace, Spock caught a flash of aloof eyes, long legs and short black hair with spiky bangs.
“What are you doing here, Moreau?” Kirk inquired with a grin. His hands ran down the length of her arms and stopped to grip her hands lightly.
The roaring in Spock’s ears nearly drowned the ensuing conversation.
Lieutenant Moreau rolled her eyes and batted his hands away from hers, but her lips were minutely curved. “Do you even read your rosters, Captain? I’m your new bodyguard.”
Kirk’s jaw dropped, and he quickly looked over his shoulder to gain affirmation from Spock.
Spock found his paralysation broke just enough for him to stiffly nod.
There was another hoot of glee from his captain, as Kirk pulled Lieutenant Moreau into yet another embrace. The woman’s laugh was warm and throaty as she briefly squeezed back, and then efficiently pushed Kirk back a few steps.
“Where are your manners, Captain? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your Number One?”
“Oh - yeah, of course! Spock, as I’m sure you’ve deduced - this is Marlena. I met her my first year at the Academy. After proving she could kick my ass from here ‘til Tuesday, she proceeded to be the thorn in my side that kept me from goofing off with my studies.”
“You should be thanking me for your captaincy, you know,” Lieutenant Moreau added, although she was looking at Spock. She assumed a sober expression, as she raised her hand in the ta’al. “Tonk-peh, Commander Spock.”
Spock nodded tightly, still unsure of his voice. He flicked a look between Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Moreau, noticing that while Jim’s brow furrowed slightly, his bodyguard appeared unaffected by the silence.
Kirk cleared his throat. “Uh, Spock?” He peered down at Spock’s hands.
With a shallow breath Spock followed Jim’s line of sight. In his fists was a mangled piece of sparking wires and plastic, which had once resembled a PADD.
“Excuse me,” Spock murmured, and turned on his heel.
And in that very moment, without the benefit of logic, Spock firmly decided that he did not approve of Marlena Moreau.
*
The Captain’s shouts eradicated Spock’s stray thoughts, as he dropped the Romulan officer with a crushing pinch to the brachial plexus. Spock whipped around and was down the corridor before the Romulan had hit the ground. Hallways blurred past Spock as he negotiated the inner workings of the foreign ship. The Captain had to be close - and Spock would save him in time. That was the only outcome Spock would allow himself to consider.
Spock burst through the cargo bay, just in time to see Lieutenant Moreau deliver a swift roundhouse kick to the face of a teetering Romulan. He toppled onto his face with a resounding crack and lay unconscious, alongside two other crumpled bodies.
Captain Kirk - who had been guarding her back with his phaser on stun - turned and placed a hand on the Lieutenant’s shoulder. He heaved a breath of relief and murmured, “Impressive,” in her ear.
Moreau dusted her hands off on her hips and shrugged. “Doing my job, C-.”
“Captain.”
Two pairs of eyes swung towards Spock. One dark pair remained unreadable, while the other’s lit up.
“Spock.” A slow smile crept over Kirk’s face, as he took long strides to reach him. Spock met him halfway.
“Are you injured, Captain?”
“I’m fine.” Kirk’s gaze swept down Spock’s torso, and back up. “You?”
“I remain unscathed,” Spock replied, proud to have masked the unexplainable quake in his diction.
“Good.” Kirk searched Spock’s face for a mere second, then jerked his head to both Moreau and Spock. “Let’s get out of here.”
Lieutenant Moreau and Spock fell into step beside their Captain, an officer on either side. If Spock walked with more haste than usual, it was because of the state of their emergency, and not because he was testing the Lieutenant’s ability to keep in step with him. Which she did, and without complaint.
Kirk’s face was flushed with exertion, which only served to highlight the alertness in his eyes. “Scotty’s disabled their warp-drive. They’ll limp home on impulse power, while we book it outta here.”
“Aye, Captain,” both Moreau and Spock simultaneously replied. Spock shot her a curdling look, but Moreau’s attention was focused on the Captain.
“Transporter room’s likely to be packed with Romulans, sir.”
Captain Kirk nodded tersely as they approached the doors. “Probably - but with our communicators on the blitz and contact with the Enterprise obliterated, it’s our only choice.” He grinned at Moreau as the three of them paused in front of the transporter room entrance. “Besides, you just downed three Romulans on your own. I think you’ll be fine.”
Lieutenant Moreau’s brows shot up. “I was more concerned about you getting your ass handed to you... Sir.”
The Captain snorted a disbelieving laugh. Spock’s lips tightened. He refrained from reminding Kirk that he had disabled five Romulans on Nero’s ship. Five futuristic Romulans.
The fact that he even considered making mention of his accomplishments had Spock’s jaw clenching. And when the sliding doors whisked open, Spock utilised every ounce of vexation and confusion on six unsuspecting Romulans.
*
“The both of you can get the hell out of my sickbay this inst -”
“I have every right to be here, Doctor,” Moreau icily enunciated. Her feet were planted down firmly, with her arms crossed beneath her bosom. “My every responsibility revolves around the Captain - that does not supersede sitting at his bedside. Commander Spock, on the other hand -“
Spock narrowed his eyes, his nostrils flaring.
“Has his duties on the bridge. He has a ship to run. I do not. So,” she concluded, her impassive expression indicating that she would not be moved. Spock briefly entertained the idea of hauling the woman over his shoulder and tossing her into a containment chamber. He merely stood straighter.
Dr. McCoy scowled and looked between the two of them. One officer stood on either side of the bed where Kirk lay pale and prone. For a moment, Spock speculated that he would escort both of them out of the sickbay, which he was prepared to accept.
Instead, McCoy sighed and squeezed the back of his neck. “Marlena’s right, Spock. You’ve got better things to do than watch Jim sleep. I don’t even know why you’re making such a goddamn fuss about it. He ain’t gonna heal any faster while you’re sittin’ around.”
While the statement was correct, it still caused a tremor of unknown origin to ride through his bones. Spock had no logical argument to that. With Lieutenant Moreau at his captain’s side, he could not dispute that he would be ill-treated. When had that ever been an issue on the Enterprise?
“Very well,” he replied tightly. Refusing to look at the lieutenant or the doctor, Spock found himself walking away from Jim once more.
*
“Good morning,” a voice purred.
Every person - not including Spock - jerked their head up to greet Lieutenant Moreau with a word or a smile. Even Dr. McCoy. Spock sullenly stared at his granola, and unconsciously scooted half an inch closer to his captain. Their shoulders brushed companionably.
Moreau sat across from them and took a dainty bite of her toast. Red lips curled faintly as she inspected Captain Kirk. “Looks like Doc Country already cleaned up your shiner.”
McCoy muttered under his breath about training exercises gone awry, as Spock frowned and looked to Kirk.
The Captain was grinning and gingerly prodding his eye. “I’ve had worse.”
The lieutenant made an emphatic noise of agreement, as she sipped her coffee and nodded. She leaned across the table, her short dark hair falling to frame her feline features. “Like that time you tried to feel me up while I was sleeping and -“
“And you proceeded to nearly break my arm with a kamura submission.” Jim winced. “Yeah - how can I forget? By the way!” He pointed an accusing finger, “You were so awake. Just very drunk. I’m not some creeper who -“
From the end of the table Uhura cut in with, “I’m going to have to stop you right there, Captain. Did you, or did you not, grope me in a bar while I was least suspecting it?”
“Would you have been okay with it had you expected it?” Kirk fired back with an undaunted grin.
Spock fought the urge to hunch his shoulders and shut out the line of conversation. Despite over ten months of growing accustomed to the mess-hall chatter, he was grossly unprepared for this form of banter. In addition, it was now confirmed that his Captain had been - was? - attracted to Lieutenant Moreau.
The fact that this knowledge upset him was not the most unnerving aspect of the situation. The emotion could be reined in and tamed, tucked away and ignored. What truly irritated Spock was Lieutenant Moreau’s presence, and the consequent attention that his Captain paid to her. Expressions he had grown to assume were for him alone became shared. Reminiscing between Moreau and Kirk - while not occurring on shift - was commonplace off duty. Spock and Kirk’s chess matches still occurred with regularity, but at some point that Spock could not discern they had become somewhat unsatisfying. Spock wished for more.
What irked Spock was that, because of Moreau, he experienced the urge to regard James Kirk as his property. He begrudgingly recognised this as an unhealthy thought process.
But Spock’s dilemma remained: He understood his misplaced attraction towards his captain. He was cognisant of the probability that mixing their relationships would be disastrous. Spock had resigned himself to the fact that he could not pursue such an illogical path.
Unfortunately, Spock’s Human half refused to acknowledge the logic. The heart was not a logical organ. At the end of this puzzling equation was the only solution his heart could focus on: Jim belonged beside Spock.
A familiar voice was soft in his ear, and Spock could feel the cool breath whisk across his earlobe. “Spock.”
He blinked from his reverie, and angled to inspect Kirk. “Captain?”
Kirk searched his face, flame-blue eyes leaving pools of heat on Spock’s cheeks. Then Kirk offered a small smile that Spock had never previously witnessed, it was almost shy. “Just making sure you were with us.”
Something akin to relief washed through Spock’s limbs and left him mildly light-headed. Careful to keep his composure, Spock raised a brow. “I am plainly here with you, Jim.”
“Yeah.” Kirk turned back to the bustling breakfast table. Spock heard him say once more, under his breath, “Yeah.”
*
“I did not take you for a coward,” Lieutenant Moreau breathlessly commented as she snapped the thick neck of an Elasian guard.
Spock clenched his jaw and side-stepped the forward stab of a giant spear. “What?” he bit off, as he clutched the Elasian’s wrist in his fist and shattered the assailant’s Scaphoid bone. The weapon clattered to the floor, with the sound drowned out by the howling Elasian.
Moreau wrinkled her nose at the guard in distaste, and delivered a neat palm thrust to the man’s nose. It was more likely that he lost consciousness due to pain rather than any serious mortal injury.
“Playing dumb reflects poorly on you,” the Lieutenant replied as she stepped over a corpse and began marching towards the ship’s bridge. “You have done nothing to stake a claim on the Captain.”
A stab of panic pierced Spock’s chest as he fought back a snarl. “The Captain belongs to no one, Lieutenant, and I have no wish to alter that.”
Moreau shrugged lightly and remained impassively silent as they swiftly traversed the poorly-lit corridors. A door opened and an Elasian guard hurtled towards her.
The Lieutenant reported, “Jim is my friend,” as she shifted from his path, flung out an elbow, and caught the man beneath his chin. “One of my only friends at the Academy.” Although the man had not been incapacitated, she walked on by the stumbling enemy.
Spock frowned as he passed the Elasian, only bothering with a quick nerve pinch as he curtly said, “I did not ask for the rationalisations of your intrusive actions.”
“In addition,” Moreau added, daring to shoot a quelling look over her shoulder. “I have a theory that you would suit each other, and that Captain Kirk is aware of this.”
Spock bit back a scowl as they quickly approached a turbolift. Undoubtedly this would reach the bridge. “Your guesses are of no interest to me,” he grumbled as the door shifted open and welcomed them in. He and Moreau slipped inside in tandem, turning to face each other in what could only be described as a standoff.
Moreau snapped, “Bridge,” and the turbolift whizzed to life. Her eye sparked with amber annoyance for a moment, but was swiftly replaced with familiar stony assertiveness. “Commander, has it occurred to you that if you wait too long, that someone else will come along with a stronger spine and a braver heart than you?”
She may as well have punched Spock in the throat for all the surprise that pummelled him.
The essence of Spock’s apprehension recognised Moreau’s words as truth, and in turn Spock was rendered speechless.
The turbolift door swept aside behind Moreau, and she casually backed out without dropping eye contact. Her gaze was flinty and her smile stone cold as she murmured, “Hell, now that we’re talking about it - maybe I would be good for him.”
Spock swiftly yanked his phaser from his hip, aimed and fired within seconds.
The shot rocketed past Lieutenant Moreau’s ear and plugged an Elasian in the back of the neck. He dropped like a stone before Captain Kirk’s feet. Kirk whipped his fight-brightened gaze to find Spock - and smiled.
Spock inclined his chin in recognition, but his stare was fastidiously fixed upon Moreau’s mutely astonished expression. He holstered his weapon and swept past the Lieutenant, murmuring, “Concentrate on your job if you’re to be of any use to my Captain.”
*
“I shall lead you to your quarters,” the Stratosian girl announced meekly.
“I request a room with -” Spock began.
“I’ll be rooming with -” Moreau said at the same time. They didn’t spare a single glance to each other. The Captain looked between them and appeared decidedly amused.
Spock shifted minutely closer to Kirk’s side. “It is logical that we keep the same quarters, so that we may discuss the mission together.”
“It is logical that his personal bodyguard room with him,” Lieutenant Moreau explained to the Stratosian. There was a breathy air of exasperation in her voice that had Spock proudly inclining his chin.
Captain Kirk pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. When he looked at the Stratosian however, he radiated ease and a cordial smile. “I apologise, Droxine. Do you, by any chance, have adjoining rooms?”
The thin girl nodded and returned the smile. “Of course, Captain Kirk. Anything for an honoured guest.”
“Thank you.”
The moment their hostess turned her back, Captain Kirk shot his officers a dark look that insinuated they were not to speak a word. Spock quirked a brow and remained silent.
When the door to their rooms shut behind them, the Captain whirled. “First off, I will not have two of my best officers bickering like school children in front our hosts. It makes you, me and the Federation look like unprofessional ingrates. Second -” he paused, and his posture relaxed enough for him to fling his hands up, “What the hell?”
Spock sent a sidelong glance to Lieutenant Moreau. She was imitating his stance, with hands neatly behind her back and her spine ramrod straight. She looked back at him with flashing feline eyes. Neither of them spoke.
Captain Kirk ran his tongue across his teeth, considering them both with a glint in his gaze. Then he clapped his hands together once, indicating his decision had been made. “Okay. How about this? I’m sleeping alone. You two get the double bedroom. That -” he added, pointing specifically at Spock, “is an order. Work this thing out.”
His Captain strode through the adjoining door and left them both staring after him, impassively dumbfounded.
Lieutenant Moreau was the first to speak. She placed her hands on her hips and arched an eyebrow. Her tone was deceptively agreeable. Spock had heard her use that voice when talking down an aggressive Klingon - moments before she snapped his arm.
“Do you have something to tell me, Commander?”
“No, Lieutenant. I do not.”
“The Captain seems to think you do, and I’m inclined to agree.”
“Your inclinations are not my concern. If you will excuse m -”
“You know,” Moreau began, her dark stare clinging to Spock. “We are very similar, you and I.”
Spock found himself unable to hold her gaze, as he looked past her ear and lied. “Fortunately, I have not perceived any congruence between our characters.”
The fallacy left a bitter taste on his tongue, because he had indeed noted their various physical and intellectual parallels on several occasions. In fact, it was this knowledge which left a nauseous weight in Spock’s stomach.
Marlena Moreau was an extremely Human - and female - version of himself, on several levels. For Jim to pursue a relationship with the Lieutenant would be the logical route of action - and the path of least resistance and complication.
The knowledge made Spock’s entire body clench like a fist.
“Of course not,” Lieutenant Moreau waved off Spock’s obvious denial. Her stance was stiff, and her glower barely tamed. “May I speak freely, Commander?”
“I presumed you had already begun.”
Moreau’s lips twitched once, and then her expression shuttered. Her voice was flat. “Let me be frank. I am utterly unconcerned with gaining your approval. Despite your rank, it is not my job to cater to you or your needs. The safety of Captain Kirk is my only concern aboard the Enterprise, and I am confident that I accomplish my duties with efficiency and tact. But you -” Moreau paused to laugh dryly and shake her head. “You, Commander Spock, make my job difficult.”
“That is highly improbable. In fact, I hypothesise that your position onboard the Enterprise is essentially obsolete. Before your placement with the crew our missions remained successful. Before Captain Kirk had a specific guardian, such as you, he remained safe.”
Spock clasped his hands at the small of his back - and felt his left thumb lose blood and go numb, from the manner in which the rest of his fist had gripped around it. “Had it not occurred to you, Lieutenant Moreau, that it had previously been my obligation to care for the Captain?”
The Lieutenant visibly flinched, and blinked up at Spock with exaggerated lethargy. It was as if she had woken from a particularly startling dream. And then, for no discernable reason, her features began to relax, one by one. The skin of her brow smoothed, her eyes softened, and her lips slowly curled into a smile.
“You are in love with him.”
Spock snapped, “Absolutely not,” before he could curtain the gust of desperation that whipped through him.
Moreau shrugged, but there was a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “Maybe not. I’ve never been good at comprehending deep affection myself, so I could be incorrect. But I don’t believe I am. Did you hear yourself, Commander?”
Not trusting his words, Spock settled for a blank stare. A shiver prickled at his back.
“You told me it was your obligation to care for the Captain. Care. Not guard or advise.”
“Recognise your rank, Lieutenant,” Spock hedged.
Moreau’s unpainted lips parted, and then closed as if she’d reconsidered her stance. She nodded brusquely. “Understood, sir. I’ll just go check up on the Captain.” The look she aimed Spock’s way glittered with mirth. “If that’s okay by you, of course.”
Spock inclined his chin very slightly. “You are not troubled?”
“By?” The Lieutenant appeared to be growing impatient with the line of conversation.
“By my...” Spock could not bring himself to speak the words. He straightened and stared ahead. “Forgive my intrusion, but do you not experience similar - do you not experience, as you say, an affection for the Captain?”
The Lieutenant frowned. “I suppose.”
Spock’s heart clutched in a painful spasm that he could not control. “I see,” he replied quietly.
“We’ve been friends for years. James Kirk isn’t the kind of person you can just forget about,” Moreau said with a shadow of a smile. “Suffocating ego and brazen disregard for regulations aside, he’s a decent human being. And you know what?”
“What?” Spock croaked. He was astonished he still had the capacity for logical speech.
Moreau’s jabbed Spock’s upper arm with a short, direct punch. Before Spock could fully jerk away from the unexpected contact, Moreau said, “He is an even better person around you, Spock.”
Spock’s thoughts floundered - and as he attempted to gain a slippery grasp on any proper reply, Lieutenant Moreau’s communicator signalled an incoming message. She turned away from Spock and flipped open the device.
“Moreau here.”
“Marlena,” Doctor McCoy barked. “Jim just checked in with the bridge and sounded awful pissy. Said it wasn’t anythin’ that concerned the mission, though. The hell’s goin’ on down there?”
Spock experienced surprise when the Lieutenant laughed. She meandered toward the ceiling-length expanse of windows, and cheerfully commented, “Has anyone ever mentioned that you’re a shameless gossip? Were you, by chance, mistaken for a girl in the first six years of your life and dressed in taffeta and gingha-”
“Cut the foreplay woman, and tell me if Jim’s okay,” the doctor snapped. Spock’s eyebrows rocketed up.
“He is fine. Stop playing the mother hen, Doc. Go do something other than loiter the bridge, or I’ll have to escort you off when I return.”
Sputtering emanated from the receiver, and Spock caught sight of Moreau’s profile as she shifted. She was smiling broadly. McCoy began to grumble about the travesty that was his life, but the Lieutenant promptly closed the communicator on him.
When her attention returned to Spock her face was hard, but her eyes were subdued. “Oh - and Commander? Don’t assume that because I’m female that I will automatically desire a relationship with Jim.” Moreau’s smile was predatory. “I tend to prefer... well, I keep my options open.”
*
“It’s your move, Spock.”
He knew that, of course. Spock had never faced a personal dilemma of this particular calibre.
“Spock?”
The choice to pursue Kirk was now his. Lieutenant Moreau appeared to support him in his venture - a most unexpected turn of events. But simply because she deemed it safe territory did not imply there would not be obstacles to face.
A light kick under the table had Spock inwardly jolting back to reality. He met Kirk’s expectant expression with artificial calm.
Kirk cocked his head and offered a quizzical smile. “You okay?”
“I am well, Captain.”
“Sure?”
“I am certain.”
The Captain shrugged and gestured to the chessboard laid out before them. “Then make your move, Commander.”
Spock considered the board. He could manoeuvre his knights in a circular attack - but the victory would take longer to achieve. Or he could simply barrel through with his queen. He would lose several pieces in the process, but he could claim a definitive win.
“Okay, I’m saying this as a friend, so don’t get all stoically pissy - but you’re acting really weird. Like, not even Vulcan-weird. Just weird-weird.”
Spock almost smiled at Kirk’s inelegant use of vernacular. “It is not my intention to unnerve you.”
Kirk’s nimble fingers fiddled with a pawn. “I’m not unnerved. Just - what’s on your mind?” His gaze was earnest and open, an expression Spock had come to cherish despite the illogic of the emotion.
Captain Kirk did not look at people in such a manner. He was charismatic and clever by nature, but never unguarded. It had taken several months for Spock to realise that Kirk trusted others as little as Spock did - perhaps less than he did, considering Spock’s assumption that people were not ‘good’ or ‘bad’, but simply a reflection of their current circumstances.
“I admit I am uncertain how to express what I am experiencing.”
“I think that just means you’re a normal, healthy guy,” Kirk said with a smile. “We never know what to say, and we never say it at the right time.”
Spock nodded with a hint of reluctance. “Indeed.”
He had never been considered average by any standard. Spock had always been singled out, or bullied, or commended for his idiosyncrasies. Apparently Captain Kirk regarded him as... an emotional equal? Certainly that could be considered a minor success.
“Look, Spock.” Kirk leaned in, and their toes bumped beneath the table. “All I’m saying is that if something’s bothering you, I’m here and stuff. I’m not gonna... judge you, or whatever it is that you might think of me.”
Spock hurriedly assured him, “I do not think ill of you, Captain.”
“Oh. Well - good.” The Captain nodded to himself, his gaze falling to the board between them.
“Do you - ” Spock paused when Kirk’s head jerked up. The intensity in those eyes almost discomforted him. Spock took a quiet breath and powered forward. “You rarely seem at a loss for words, Captain. In fact, I believe you are considered particularly loquacious by even Human standards.”
The Captain raised his eyebrows and breathed a soft laugh. “Okay - and?”
“And I was curious which emotions you experience that leave you at a loss for proper explanation.”
Kirk slouched back in his chair, one hand unconsciously massaging the nape of his neck. He squinted at Spock in rumination. “I dunno. I can’t say I particularly categorise my emotions. They come hard and leave quickly.” He grinned. “Story of my life.”
Spock was not going to begin analysing that statement.
He also found that he could not empathise with Kirk’s management of emotions. Whereas Kirk allowed his feelings to wash over him like a forceful tide, then allowed them to dissipate as if it was all utterly normal - Spock experienced the opposite conditions.
His emotions crept upon him, stealthily seeping into his thoughts and colouring his decisions before Spock could fully comprehend it. He was so accustomed to delegating his feelings to dark corners, that Spock genuinely could not label his emotions when he did shine a light upon them. To so harshly illuminate Spock’s... endearment towards Kirk was disconcerting.
Spock could not begin to analyse his feelings on the situation, but perhaps he could attempt to gauge Kirk’s standpoint. Unfortunately, there were no scientific means by which to calculate Kirk’s regard for him - and the only person Spock had been able to successfully read had been his mother.
Spock had no concrete facts to work off of. He was not a coward, but he was not a fool either. One misstep could lead to disaster - not just in their painstakingly-constructed friendship, but within the professional string of command as well.
Indeed, Kirk made Spock feel both normal and unique - accepted, yet still special as an individual. Spock believed that he could be content with this for the entirely of his service abroad the Enterprise.
But what if...
Spock had encountered several ‘what if’ moments in his life. What if he had lashed out against his bullies and stood up for himself? What if he had chosen an untrodden path and attended Starfleet Academy rather than the VSA? What if he had taken a chance and trusted his ferociously dauntless First Officer to have his back in the heart of an enemy Romulan vessel?
What if...
“Spock?”
Spock blinked and peered up from the checkered board, meeting Kirk’s intense, inquisitive gaze. “I believe the move is still mine.”
Kirk grinned and folded his arms as he leaned back. “Yeah, no shit man. My granny could beat me faster than this.”
Spock’s lips would have twitched had he not been intent on sliding a pawn two squares forward - and, consequently, playing it safe.
*
“Somebody’s birthday is coming up,” Nyota sing-songed as she slid beside Spock in the mess.
Kirk looked up from the PADD he’d brought to breakfast, a piece of toast hanging from his mouth as he blinked at Nyota from across the table. His eyes appeared unnaturally large and innocent. In the case of Captain James Kirk this was alarming, considering the man’s proclivities.
For a moment, Spock could not place why Kirk would be attempting to look guiltless. But after mentally filing through the upcoming birthdays of the bridge crew, Spock could only come up with one man.
Apparently Doctor McCoy had arrived at the same conclusion, as he snorted derisively into his coffee and grumbled, “Boy’s not interested in one of your barn-burners.”
“I didn’t ask you for your opinion,” Nyota quipped without malice. A neat, black nail pointedly directly at Kirk, who was chewing too-slowly. “And I didn’t ask you either. We’re having a party and that’s that. Pavel is dying for one since his past birthday, and we’re not denying him. You can’t keep a Russian away from his liquid shenanigans. Trust me, I’m a linguist - I know these things.”
Kirk scowled, but did not look particularly upset with the set of party orders. “What does your being a linguist have to do with anything?”
“Everything,” Nyota replied soberly, and popped a grape into her mouth.
“Last time you said, ‘trust me, I’m a linguist’, we ended up naked and nearly thrown into a volcano.”
McCoy sputtered a laugh into his coffee.
Nyota looked vaguely insulted. “I honestly don’t see how that had anything to do with me.”
“Who’s having a party?” Lieutenant Moreau chimed in as she slid beside Captain Kirk, directly across from Spock. For the first time, Moreau wore a traditional female Starfleet dress uniform, coupled with sturdy calf-high boots. The material clung to the curves which had been hidden for months behind black men’s slacks and a tunic.
Normally, Spock would not take particular note of an officer’s dress as long as it was up to code. The only difference in this case being the manner in which Moreau supported her breasts upon her arm, and angled her chest towards Kirk.
Spock futilely attempted to swallow down the knot in his throat when Kirk chewed contemplatively on his toast, and raised his eyebrows at the Lieutenant’s displayed cleavage.
On the opposite of the Captain, Doctor McCoy’s face went red and he went uncharacteristically silent. Neither Moreau nor Nyota appeared to notice, as they became engrossed in party preparation talk.
And when Lieutenant Moreau aimed a quick wink Spock’s way, his fork snapped in his hand as he excused himself from the table.
*
“You need to go behind that curtain,” was the first thing Spock was greeted with when he stepped into the recreational room, where Captain Kirk’s celebration was being held. Doctor McCoy’s face glowered in Spock’s, and he looked to be the very opposite of enjoying himself.
Cheerful music jostled amongst the rainbow-hued balloons and the sweet smell of cake and sweets. People were laughing and chatting in groups here and there, while Kirk leaned against the back wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He appeared to be waiting for people to come to him.
Spock felt extremely uncomfortable. Ill, even.
He wished to go to Kirk’s side, as he always did. Spock wanted to stand at Kirk’s hip - their arms brushing as they tended to do - and listen to what the Captain had to say about this party. Kirk had kept surprisingly quiet about his opinions regarding the celebration of his birthday. It was very possible that he was acquiescing with everyone’s wishes and putting their needs and wants above his own. Despite what most people had thought - and Spock, for a time - Captain Kirk was not an entirely selfish man. He could not be a successful captain otherwise.
But instead of joining his captain, Spock was being hustled behind a tall, wide curtain in the corner of the room which no doubt concealed some form of birthday surprise. Spock could fully comprehend why Vulcans refrained from celebrating such a day. It was taxing, and a superfluous use of time.
Spock reminded himself that this was for Kirk however, and so he did not quarrel with Doctor McCoy. Instead he gave a brusque nod, weaved through the small crowds, and snuck behind the curtain.
And was assaulted with the sight of Lieutenant Marlena Moreau clad in nothing but black lingerie, stockings, garters and heels.
She was also climbing a ladder in order to -
Unfortunately , Spock could only imagine it was in order to step inside the largest artificial cake he had ever seen. Truly, Spock had never contemplated such a pastry, fake or not, could exist. More than one person could hunch inside, as the cake was easily six feet across the base and five feet tall.
Why was all Spock could think, as he watched Moreau teeter on stilettos as she attempted to step safely inside the dessert.
Why would anyone want to be involved with something so laughably ridiculous and useless? Truly it was moments like these in which Spock marvelled how Humans were a dominant race throughout the universe.
“What are you doing?” Spock inquired, finding himself clinging to some impossible shred of hope.
Lieutenant Moreau flinched in surprise, but made no noise as she stood straighter upon the rungs of the ladder and glanced over her shoulder. For a moment she looked undeniably stunning - smoky eyes and unpainted lips, pale skin and enunciated curves - and then she blew her bangs out of her eyes and blandly inquired. “What are you doing?”
Spock fisted his hands behind his back. “I was sent to... I confess I have no inkling why. Enlighten me as to your activities.”
Moreau raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to get into this cake, and when it’s unveiled I’m going to pop out and give Jim a lapdance.” At Spock’s mute stare, Moreau’s shoulders hunched in exasperation. “I mean I’m going to writhe on Captain Kirk’s lap like an animal in heat as a birthday gift.”
“You are not,” Spock snapped, quicker than his own mind could comprehend. The words spat out before Spock could swallow them - and now he found himself digging his nails into his palms as he battled a glower.
Lieutenant Moreau did not appear deterred. She barked a short, unattractive laugh and shrugged. “You can’t give me an order on this, Commander. This has nothing to do with duty. Anyway -” Moreau offered a tight, closed-mouth smile before she committed herself once more with dropping down into the cake, “You don’t want him, so I believe I will have a taste. It’s been a long time, and I’m sure Jim has become more delicious with age.”
Spock saw red, and it was not from the tiny bows on Moreau’s lingerie. He bit back a snarl as the Lieutenant gave a cocky salute and disappeared within the cake.
It didn’t take long for Spock to vault up the ladder and glare down into the shadowy hollow. Spock’s voice rumbled like thunder of an impending storm. “Get. Out.”
Lieutenant Moreau hummed in thought and licked her lips slowly, as she peered up at him. “Make me,” she murmured lowly.
Spock would. He was not above pulling this ingrate out of this awful, disturbing cake and putting an end to this lunacy. Kirk was not interested in Lieutenant Moreau - or, no. That was incorrect. Spock was not conclusively certain of this. It was entirely plausible that whatever the Lieutenant had planned for tonight would alter Kirk’s perception of her - and possibly extinguish any feelings Kirk might have for Spock.
And that would not happen. Jim was Spock’s. Spock’s to protect and empathise with and be happy with.
This was why Spock was shoving himself into the cake, and consequently crushing himself in beside Lieutenant Moreau. She elbowed him and hissed, “What are you - get out.”
“I will depart when you do.”
“Just what kind of Vulcan are you?”
Before Spock could comment, Moreau was hopping up and lifting herself out of the cake with an arm-strength that would have been legitimately impressive, were it not for the current situation. As it stood, Spock frowned up at Moreau’s lace-clad posterior and waited for her to move aside so he could also get out. His initial anger had subsided more to a dull, throbbing annoyance that left him feeling snappish and sour.
Of course, that changed when the lid to the cake was promptly closed atop his head, and Spock was plunged into darkness.
“Moreau,” was the first word that shot from Spock’s mouth as he reached up and pressed his palms against the ceiling. Then he realised he would not wish to break Kirk’s birthday gift, whether or not Spock approved of it - and so remained hunched and uncomfortable within the cake.
Spock gritted his teeth as he felt his face go ablaze with fury. By the fires of Mount Seleya, imprisoned in a cake.
From behind the wall of artificial dessert, Spock heard Lieutenant Moreau say, “You win, Spock. You wanted him, you fought for him, and now you better take him - because if you don’t I will have worn this ridiculous outfit for nothing.”
Doctor McCoy’s voice chimed in. “I dunno, I think you should keep it. Was the only good thing t’come of this damn fool plan a’yours. At least now I don’t haveta pretend like we’re not datin’.”
“Watch it, Doc,” Moreau warned, “Or you will not be appreciating this outfit like you had hoped.”
In the proceeding silence Spock snapped, “I will tear this cake to shreds if you do not release me.”
Moreau sighed. “And I had assumed you would be less irate after this. Spock, count to three and pop out.”
“What? What?” Spock would have to pop out of this in front of -
No.
Around him, the boisterous crowd began to sing an out-of-tune rendition of the Happy Birthday Song - and Spock had to get out of here now. Panic gripped his throat and threatened to plug his air supply as he unceremoniously stood straight and stiff, and consequently burst through the thin roof of the cake. Spock blinked rapidly as green and white splotches appeared before his eyes from the bright cabin lights.
“Happy Biiirthday tooo,” everyone’s song seemed to take a turn for the high-pitched and curious as Spock appeared. “You?”
Captain’s Kirk face-splitting grin faded into a puzzled smile as he cocked his head and met Spock’s gaze from across the room. On instinct, Spock fisted his hands behind his back and managed an acceptable parade rest. Regardless his cheeks burned, and he fought the overwhelming desire to duck into the cake and wait for the dozens of pairs of eyes to lose their fix upon him.
But that was not an option. The celebratory crowd’s murmurs of approval or surprise were quickly fading, and the moment was singularly reduced to Spock and Kirk.
“Spock?” Kirk inquired. He was not leaning back now, but standing tall and poised for action. His expression was imploring, and his smile edged with nerves as if he could sense Spock’s own state of discontent.
Spock parted his lips to concoct some form of automatic excuse, when he noted Lieutenant Moreau near Kirk’s side. She wore a simple, boxy dress of red - and was glowering at Spock with a force that only a female Human could produce. Her expression was, in a word, foreboding.
And so Spock swallowed his apprehension and chose the path less travelled - but also the path that did not lead to physical violence thrust upon him by a lower officer.
“Happy Birthday,” Spock choked out quietly. He sucked in a breath and met Kirk’s eyes. “Jim.”
Jim’s demeanour opened up like storm clouds breaking beneath the sun. White teeth flashed with bright warmth as Jim burst into motion, and began to weave through the crowd towards the cake.
There was barely enough time for Spock to catch Doctor McCoy’s muttered, “Well I’ll be damned,” and Lieutenant Moreau’s, “I am so talented,” before everyone turned to Jim and clapped, wishing him muddled congratulations for another successful year of life.
It was obvious to Spock that Jim did not hear a word spoken by his crew - and, truthfully, Spock also felt deaf. When Jim approached the base of the cake and peered up at him with an smirk, it was all Spock could do from going mute as well.
He cleared his throat. “I was coerced.”
Jim raised his eyebrows and snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I kinda figured that one out. Still...” His mouth sobered and his eyes narrowed faintly.
Spock dignified Jim’s need for recognition with a slow nod. “Still,” he affirmed around the lump in his throat.
Still, Spock had gone through with it. Despite the manner in which he had come to be entrapped in the ridiculous cake, it had been Spock’s choice to embrace the moment. To seize the day and, consequently, James Kirk.
Perhaps that was an uncharacteristic confidence - assuming that their relationship would progress further from this point. But Spock would not have taken the position as First Officer of the youngest, most brash captain in Starfleet history if Spock did not have some faith.
It also encouraged Spock’s hope that Jim was currently climbing the tiers of the cake to reach him.
“What are you -“
Jim popped up before him, his fingers gripping the edge of the recess Spock stood in. He grinned and leaned in, his dusky eyelashes lowering briefly before he flicked his gaze back up to Spock’s miffed expression. “I have to admit that when you popped up from this god-awful cake, I thought you’d evacuate the room faster than a Code Red. It was a... nice surprise.”
Spock’s gaze flitted to Jim’s smile and back to his eyes. “I am pleased that you enjoyed it.”
“Spock, do you know what else I’d like for my birthday?”
“I confess I do not,” Spock admitted, and refused to let his cheeks heat any further. He felt himself sway towards Jim and abruptly righted himself.
“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and ask for something that I’ve wanted for a while now. I’ve always been greedy,” Jim informed him with a demanding air. His eyes boldly held Spock’s as he drifted forward, his body arcing toward Spock like a flower to sunlight. “A birthday kiss. Which will, ah - you know - hopefully lead to various other kisses not exclusive to celebrations, and indulged in rather often.”
Spock clenched his hands behind his back to keep from reaching out for Jim in public. Instead he swallowed back a wave of dizziness, cocked his head, and - in the coolest tone achievable - replied, “Of course, Captain. But please, not in front of the crew members.”
Jim’s eyes widened before he released a peal of laughter that had several new eyes curiously searching them out. While Jim did not appear concerned, Spock certainly was. He was about to suggest taking this... conversation somewhere else, or perhaps waiting until the end of the party, when Lieutenant Moreau appeared behind Jim. With a barest curve of a smug smile, she snapped the large curtain shut - and then Jim and Spock were alone.
“Who was...” Jim murmured as he looked over his shoulder with a furrowed brow.
“Lieutenant Moreau,” Spock replied, his attention clinging to the corded muscle of Jim’s neck.
“Really? Well, tell her I say thanks.” A slow, intimate smile teased the corners of Jim’s mouth as he draped his arms over Spock’s shoulders. It was awkward - Spock inside the infernal cake and Jim outside. But their chests, shoulders and arms were close and comforting, and Spock revelled in the unfamiliar white heat that knotted in his stomach.
“Spock?” Jim asked, his lips brushing Spock’s jaw.
“Hm?” was all Spock could manage, as his pulse reigned over his entire body.
“Kiss me now.”
Spock was unsure who moved first. In fact, they both swayed toward each other in tandem. Jim’s lips were lush and welcoming, and surprisingly gentle as he hummed his approval into Spock’s mouth. Doubts and insecurities sparked, popped and dissipated between them like a crackling fire - leaving them only warm and assurance.
Strong, sure fingers threaded through Spock’s hair and held their foreheads close long after their short, sweet kiss had completed. Spock knew when Jim opened his eyes because he could feel the soft sweep of his lashes tickle Spock’s closed eyelids.
Jim released a long, shuddering breath that ended on a chuckle. His palms slid to the nape of Spock’s neck and lightly squeezed. “You really need to thank Marlena - I really need to thank Marlena.”
Spock was glad for the close proximity of their faces, as he could allow himself a brief twitch of lips.
“Marlena Moreau is indeed a competent individual.”