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kowaiyoukaiTitle: We Reach Our Apogee Slowly (Part 7)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kowaiyoukai
Rating: R
Pairing: eventual like whoa Kirk/Spock (STFU), Spock/Uhura (blame JJ, not me)
Warning(s): Angst, meta, language, attempts at witty banter, overly-important tone, intentionally confusing parts, potentially OOC everybody
Spoilers: Star Trek XI (2009) (a.k.a. Star Trek XI, Star Trek 2009, Star Trek Reboot, New Trek, and can we please just pick one name for this fandom people?!)
Word Count: 6,833
Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Gene Roddenberry, mostly, but also a lot of other people/groups like Paramount, J.J. Abrams, and the various writers/directors. I'm not one of those people, sadly, because if I was I'd be filthy rich.
Beta Acknowledgment: None! I know there are errors, so please let me know if you see any! Thanks!
Summary: Jim quickly realized he was going to have to break the rules if he wanted to survive on the Enterprise.
A/N: HBP sucked. Then I had to write this part overnight so I could get it out today. Oh, man. Sometimes, life, you know? It's just… *le sigh*
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Othersides 1 | Part 6a | Part 6b | Part 6c
The first time Jim realized he liked boys in that way, he was twelve. He was in English class and the professor was droning on about some stupid old book that he was never going to read, and with the class being so boring the only thing Jim could think to do was stare blankly into space. He ended up looking at Johnny, who sat two seats in front and to the right of him, who hated math but loved English and never talked to him because one time Jim had said something cruel to him to impress his friends. Jim remembered the way Johnny's face had fallen, the way he had darted his eyes downward and hurried on, they way he had purposely avoided Jim for weeks after that until finally Jim had pushed his shoulder in the generic universal guy-signal of friendship and muttered "later." Johnny must have understood what Jim meant because from then on he didn't flinch away even though he never made an effort to interact with Jim, either.
It was weird that Jim was staring at him, but hey, line of sight and all of that, and it wasn't like it was his fault the seats were arranged alphabetically. So Jim stared without caring about it, because he was bored and wanted to be somewhere else, and then he was staring at the collar of Johnny's t-shirt, and from there it was easy to go to the base of his neck and let his eyes trail slowly up to reach his chin, his cheekbone, his ear.
Afterwards, when Jim realized what he had been doing, he knew it was wrong because he felt ashamed. People were much more accepting of this kind of thing now than they had been once, just like there had once been a time when black people were slaves and women couldn't vote and gay people couldn't get married, but those facts were simply items of interest to him now, small memorized lines that held no meaning to the world he lived in. So two guys or two girls being together wasn't anything anymore, it meant the same as any other kind of relationship, and even at twelve Jim had seen some pretty weird human and alien romances that defied even the broadest sense of archaic sexual terminology. What did you call it when a human being was involved with a five-legged, two-headed sentient squid? Besides gross. Obviously.
It seemed pointless to have terminology for this kind of thing, but of course some people insisted, and his step-father was one of them. Unfortunately, his step-father was also one of the few humans left who was very adamant about the "proper" kinds of relationships, and he was so vehement and outspoken about his opinion that Jim knew he would have to ignore his feelings unless he wanted to be thrown out into the Iowa desert-plains-endless-fields. So he learned to like girls, and as the years passed he eventually believed he did like girls and that the Johnny incident had been a one-time thing. He believed he could love a girl, a human girl of course, someone his step-father wouldn't beat him up over bringing home. There were times Jim thought his mother suspected something, but she never said and he never bothered to ask.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
With three Jacks in his hand, Jim should have been able to win the round. Usually he would have maneuvered his way around Scotty's loud exaggerations and Chekov's nervous finger tapping and Sulu's blank face, but for some reason even with the best hand Jim lost. He knew his mind wasn't fully on the game, but still. Three Jacks should have won him something. But McCoy won the round with a pair of tens because Jim had gone out earlier like an idiot when he only saw one Jack and didn't actually register the other two next to it. Then, because this was the way his life worked, when Jim threw his cards down in frustration McCoy glanced over to see what he had. His eyebrows shot up and he looked at Jim curiously. But that was easy enough to ignore. He'd been ignoring McCoy's weird looks for the past four days—nothing new there.
"You still playing?" McCoy asked. He shuffled the cards and looked at Jim, waiting for an answer before he dealt them.
Jim twisted his lips and scrunched his nose, face a picture of overdramatized confusion. "Uh… yeah?" He let the expression fade to a smile. "I've got to win my money back, after all."
"What money?" Scotty asked. "We're playing with potato chips." He picked one out of his hard-earned pile and bit into it, crunching loudly.
"Don't eat your money!" Jim shouted, waving a hand at him in frustration. "You'll have nothing left to bet with."
"One last hand then," McCoy said. "It's already three-thirty." He dealt the cards swiftly, wrist flicking as each card slid across the table to land in front of or near the player.
"In the morning?" Chekov asked, incredulously.
"No," McCoy answered, monotone.
"Can we just play, please?" Sulu said. "I've got a shift in four hours."
Jim picked up his cards and looked at them carefully, making sure he looked at each one carefully before realizing his hand was useless. Well, he'd stay in anyway and make it look like he had a chance. Even if he wasn't focused on the game, he didn't want to completely miss the experience. Sure, they played a few times a week, but it was relaxing. Or, at least, it was supposed to be relaxing. And it would have been, too, if Jim hadn't been internally freaking out.
So he loved Spock. Big deal. Really, what did it matter? He didn't have to do anything about it. He could just go on as if nothing had happened. Because nothing actually had happened. Uhura hadn't said anything else to him, and she and Spock were still trying to have some kind of epic romance or something. But what did he care? He didn't care. Not even a little. Spock could go and flirt with whoever he wanted to. Not his problem.
Except that he thought he was developing a nervous tick. Because every time he saw them together his eyes sort of itched and then they looked at him strangely. He thought perhaps he was having some kind of uncontrollable reaction, like sneezing. And that wouldn't really go over too well if it kept on happening. He needed to find a way to just accept the facts. Spock and Uhura were dating, and they were going to be dating for at least another four and a half months unless Spock suddenly decided to back out on his word. That was, of course, impossible, so Jim needed to get used to the idea of Spock seeing other people really quickly.
He closed his eyes in irritation at his own stupidity. ‘Seeing other people'—what was that? He and Spock had never been together and were never going to get together and four days was really enough time to suck it up and get over it. He could just love Spock secretly and not give himself away and everything would be fine.
Besides, he wasn't even entirely sure it was love. How were people supposed to know for sure that they were in love? He'd felt it so strongly before, and he still felt it hit him every time he saw Spock, but then when they separated it sort of slowly got less. Until he saw something that reminded him of Spock, like when he went into the lift and remembered the last time he and Spock had been in there together when nothing at all interesting had happened except Spock had raised an eyebrow at him and he had sort of felt all disgusting and nervous and tight about it and he'd thought he was going to laugh or throw up but then they'd gotten to the bridge and the crisis was suddenly over. Or when someone mentioned something that reminded him of Spock, like when he'd passed these two crew members talking about rushing to finish reports on time and he'd encouraged them and moved on but then he knew that they'd have to face his fearless First Officer's wrath if they were late and after that thinking about how Spock would get all irritated and his lips would press together and he'd just stand there silently berating them was actually exciting and amusing to Jim.
He hadn't thought it was going to be like this. Love was supposed to be all rainbows and fluffy bunny rabbits, wasn't it? What the hell was up with him getting excited over Spock making his crew cry? It was morally wrong on some level, he was sure of it.
But the most unexpected part so far had been just how much he wanted to tell Spock. He knew he couldn't, but he really, really, really wanted to. It was like every time he saw Spock he had to stop himself from shouting about it. And it was just so obvious to him that he thought Spock must already know because how could he not? Wasn't it clear just by looking at Jim? That's what he felt like—that trying to be calm and not give himself away was just a waste of time because somehow he'd already accidentally given himself away, and now it was only a matter of time before this whole charade came crashing down around him.
But nobody knew. Nobody acted any differently, and besides the weird looks from McCoy and Uhura's unnerving comment, there'd been nothing. So he was safe and able to hide it for now, and he intended to keep it that way.
Jim had only been paying half attention to his cards, so of course he lost when it was time to reveal his hand, but that was fine because Scotty had been right—they'd only been playing for potato chips. What did it matter if he lost, really?
Scotty started downing his chips as soon as the game was over, sitting there like he didn't have work in four hours. Sulu immediately said good night and left. Chekov followed a few minutes later, yawning and blinking too often. They both had to be in half an hour earlier than everyone else the next day thanks to a new course that had them diverting around an asteroid belt. Those were the trials and tribulations of being the pilot and navigator. McCoy put the cards away and sat there, looking for all the world like he had nothing better to do than sit in a rec room at almost four in the morning.
"All right, I'm done," Scotty said, wiping his hands on his shirt. "See you bright and early, Captain."
Jim nodded at him. "Night, Scotty."
After he left, the silence was so thick in the room Jim thought he might drown in it. He was planning on waiting it out and hoping McCoy caved first, but of course that didn't happen. In less than a minute he looked at McCoy, who was staring at him, and spread his hands in front of him.
"What," Jim stated, shortly. "What is it?"
"Nothing," McCoy said. "Why's there got to be something?"
"You've been acting weird," Jim said. "I don't get it."
"What, I'm not allowed to sit here?" McCoy raised his eyebrows and shook his head in annoyance, and the gesture was so familiar that Jim swallowed and ran a hand over his face. He couldn't stay here like this. Whatever was wrong with McCoy, he'd figure it out later when he wasn't so focused on his own problems.
"I'm just going to sleep," Jim said, one corner of his mouth curving upwards in reassurance. It didn't work. McCoy still frowned when Jim pushed his chair back, scraping it against the floor with a sharp sound. "It's too late to be doing this." He left without waiting for McCoy's reply, because he knew if he waited McCoy might understand what he'd really meant.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Uhura had asked Spock to reserve a room for them to spend time together in. Spock had reserved one of the recreation rooms even though he wasn't exactly sure what her idea of spending time was going to be. Still, he was willing to give her what she wanted. Uhura had been acting oddly since they had returned from Lambda Four. Spock assumed this was because she had succumbed to the disease and felt badly about it. It would be a very human thing to do—feel badly about getting sick.
However, now that they were here, she was acting even stranger. They had spent the past two hours playing a board game that he didn't try to win and accidentally won anyway. She was slightly upset but not horribly so. Spock didn't know how to talk to her when she acted this way. It was hard enough speaking with her normally. When she was in a bad mood it was next to impossible.
"Perhaps we should get some rest?" Spock asked.
"All right," Uhura said. She closed her eyes and leaned towards him. Spock stepped away from her, immediately unsure. She waited there a few seconds before opening her eyes and looking at him in confusion. "What's the problem?"
Spock had been trying to avoid this conversation. He'd hoped she would wait until he agreed to kiss her. In that case, he would have avoided it until the six months were up. It hadn't been a great plan, but it had been the only one he had that had any chance at succeeding. It was going to be awful discussing this with her now, when she was already unhappy.
"I am currently not prepared for any signs of physical affection," Spock said. That was clear and concise. There was no way she could misunderstand.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Spock resisted the urge to either sigh heavily or roll his eyes. Was there something in human DNA that forced them to act this way? "I mean that I am not ready to become physically intimate at this time."
"No, I hear you," Uhura said, frowning. "But that doesn't make sense."
"I do not know how to make the statement any clearer," Spock replied.
"No, what I'm saying is that we're dating, so kissing shouldn't be a big deal. Right?" Uhura asked, looking at Spock and shrugging a little.
"Perhaps normally," Spock allowed. "However I do not feel comfortable engaging in physical intimacy with you at this time."
"Okay," Uhura said, slowly. "So then, when?"
It was obvious she thought her statement made sense by itself. "Please explain what you mean," Spock said.
Uhura sighed. "I'm asking you when you'll feel comfortable kissing me again."
"I do not know," Spock replied. Of course he did know the answer, but telling her would be a disastrous move.
"I know you're still upset over what happened," Uhura said. Spock did not understand what exactly she was referring to. The Vulcan Massacre was the obvious reference, but she could have been talking about their recent mission or else some other event that she had given importance which hadn't made a lasting impression on him. But it was most likely Nero's attack. "But we kissed right afterwards and you didn't have a problem with it then."
Spock hesitated. He was certain now that she was speaking about the Vulcan Massacre, but he still had no idea how to reply. Telling her that their first kiss had made no impression on him thanks to his state of shock wasn't possible. It was also a bad idea to tell her that their second kiss had been incredibly uncomfortable for him, for similar reasons. He'd known this for a while and nothing had changed, but he still hadn't thought of what to tell her.
Luckily, Uhura was not the type of person who would stay silent until he replied. When he had been quiet for several seconds, she said, "I have something to tell you. I wasn't going to say anything, but now I think I have to." Spock waited while she licked her lips. "I overheard you and Kirk talking."
Spock waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he said, "Captain Kirk and I have spoken on numerous occasions. Was there one specific instance you were referring to?"
Uhura looked briefly at the ceiling before she said, "I meant that night on Lambda Four when he asked you about Vulcan."
"Ah," Spock said. Discomfort attacked him in waves. "I was unaware you were awake during that time."
"Yeah," Uhura said, slowly. "I know."
"Why did you remain silent?" Spock asked. It seemed incredibly… sneaky or manipulative, perhaps, to pretend to be asleep. He had no idea why she would have done that, but it also struck him that the conversation she had overheard had been private. It felt like she had unintentionally violated something she had no business taking part in. He didn't necessarily mind her hearing about Vulcan—in fact, he had meant what he said. The more people who learned about Vulcan culture now, the better. But Jim's contributions to the conversation had been more hesitant and personal. Spock didn't think he would have acted that way if he had known she was awake.
"It seemed rude to interrupt," Uhura said. "I didn't want to intrude."
Spock didn't actually know how to interpret that explanation, so he let it go. The entire situation had already occurred, and he couldn't change what had happened. So there really was no point in arguing with her about her motivations.
"Thank you for telling me," Spock said, which seemed like an appropriate response.
Uhura shuffled her feet, a sure sign she was nervous and uncomfortable. "I needed to because I've got a question." She looked directly at him. "Why didn't you ever tell me any of that?"
"You never asked," Spock replied. Again, with humans asking questions that had obvious answers.
"But you're dating me," Uhura said, blinking. "I shouldn't have to ask. You're supposed to want to talk to me about that sort of thing."
"Would you like me to tell you about Vulcan?" Spock asked, hoping he was interpreting her complaint correctly.
"Do you want to tell me about Vulcan?" Uhura responded.
"I will tell you about Vulcan if you wish to hear it, but I do not want to give you information you have no interest in," Spock stated. This was really getting confusing now. If she would just be clear, everything would be easier.
"You know what? Forget it," Uhura said, shaking her head. "You don't understand what I'm saying, do you?"
"Apparently I do not understand. Please explain what you mean," Spock said. He was willing to be patient if it would solve whatever this problem was. He actually wasn't quite sure what the problem was, but he was sure there was one.
"You've been asking me to explain what I mean a lot," Uhura said, pressing her lips together.
"I apologize," Spock said, holding back his own frustration which was now threatening to explode out of him. "I do not always understand your meaning when you imply something as opposed to being specific."
"Well, I'll try to be specific in the future," Uhura snapped. She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, leaving Spock wondering what he had said that infuriated her so much.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Homosexuality was completely illogical. The purpose of being physically intimate with another person was to produce children. Vulcans were as logical about that as they were about everything else in life. Any emotions that might come out during sex were ignored. In fact, there were some Vulcans who had chosen partners based on who was the most compatible genetically, as opposed to the Vulcans who chose partners who they actually liked—or got along with well enough to discuss every topic in the galaxy. Taking physical pleasure from sex was acceptable because that was a natural part of the process, but having sex just for its own sake was considered morally inappropriate. This was part of the reason pon farr was so horrible to go through. It took away all control and left everyone at the mercy of their emotions. When they had the choice, Vulcans chose to ignore the primal side of their nature and focus on what they had all spent years learning.
Spock knew this and had never questioned it. Of course a man and a woman would become bond mates—how else would a child be produced? It was something that had simply never come up for him before. Of course emotions were central in picking a bond mate. Even Vulcans knew that, although they did not speak of it. Still, if a Vulcan had a strong emotional connection with both a member of the same and opposite gender, then that Vulcan would become bond mates with the person of the opposite gender and stay friends with the person of the same gender. That was simply logical.
In fact, Spock remembered the first time he had seen a homosexual couple on Earth. They had been two female students in one of his classes. He had thought they were only friends until one day he had gotten to class early and saw them kissing. Of course he had continued walking to his desk without pause. When they noticed him there, one of the girls blushed and hit her partner while the other one laughed. Spock hadn't at first understood what it was he had seen. It had taken him a bit of studying that night to realize that it was not actually a human tradition for friends to kiss in that manner, and although some Earth cultures did have similar traditions, the students in Starfleet did not share them. Then he had come to the only obvious conclusion that the two were lovers, and at that point he'd closed the book and went back to writing the mid-term exam he had been working on.
The idea of homosexuality didn't bother him. It was just another illogical action that humans and other species practiced. They were illogical so much of the time that adding something else to his already incredibly long mental list had no real impact on him. Spock knew other Vulcans might have different ideas—he'd gone to school with several who had looked down on him for his easy dismissal of illogical behavior. Still, his human half gave him the wisdom and emotion to understand the point of most of human behavior. It was all about feelings for them, completely about their emotions from one moment to the next, and so they acted impulsively even when they thought they were planning ahead and being careful. It was confusing, of course, but he was still learning how to interpret it. One day he would know exactly why people did all the odd things they did—like speak out loud when they thought no one was listening, eat food they knew was harmful to their bodies, and cheat on tests that covered material they would need to know for their future careers. Engaging in physical intimacy with a member of the same sex was just another bulleted item in a long line of them. It meant nothing to Spock, especially since he knew he would never be illogical enough to engage in any of the behavior on his mental list.
It all came down to one fact. Vulcans would never ignore logic to follow any emotion, no matter how strong that emotion was. They had fierce emotions that they kept hidden and they learned to ignored, but that didn't mean anything. Logic was what won out every time over emotion. Spock had been raised that way, and in the end, he believed it was the best, and only, way to live. He knew his emotions were harder to control than they should have been. But still, he was able to ignore them for the most part. He was keeping his promise to Uhura even though he felt no true emotional connection to her, and he was still able to maintain a friendship with Jim that felt more emotionally satisfying than anything else he had ever felt. He had found a careful balance between logic and emotion. Surely that counted for something, didn't it?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jim had been heading to his room when he saw Spock walking out of a rec room. He seemed irritated or confused about something. Jim wasn't exactly feeling up to dealing with Spock shouting at him, but he knew he was going to go and ask what was wrong anyway. That was just how pathetic he was right now.
"Spock, hey," Jim said. Spock looked over at Jim and stopped walking, waiting for Jim to catch up to him.
"Jim," Spock greeted him. "I thought you were normally already in your quarters by this time."
Jim shrugged. "What can I say? Being Captain, you know, it's a tough job."
"I am on my way to my own quarters," Spock said.
"Oh, yeah, well, okay," Jim said. He scratched his chin and then decided to throw caution to the wind, as some idiot somewhere had once said, and give himself more shit to deal with. "Can I walk you there?"
Spock paused. "Your quarters are on the opposite side of the ship from mine."
Jim laughed once, loudly, then abruptly shut up before he sounded too manic. "Shit, they are, aren't they? Well, I don't care though. I'll walk there and back. Who cares?"
"I see," Spock said, raising an eyebrow. "Of course I will appreciate your company, even though your behavior is completely illogical."
Jim grinned. "It is, is it?"
"Yes," Spock said. "However I am becoming used to these illogical outbursts. They are not as off-putting as they once were."
"Oh," Jim said. "I guess that's good?"
"It is," Spock said.
They began walking towards Spock's room, Jim staying next to him but not saying anything. There wasn't really anything he could think to say that wouldn't give him away. He didn't want to shout about how much in love he was with Spock, because that would be bad, but every other conversation topic seemed less interesting and important when compared to that one obvious, glaring omission. Expecting Spock to make conversation, though, wasn't exactly going to end well. Spock had no problems walking in silence, especially when he felt comfortable. But Jim had noticed his mind was elsewhere, an when he had first seen Spock there had been something bothering him. It would be worth it to see what the problem was. Even if Jim couldn't do anything to help solve it, sometimes it really was enough to just listen.
"So," Jim said, just to say something. "What happened?" Spock glanced at him, frowning. "I mean, you seem sort of…" Jim shrugged and waved a hand around to indicate a general negative feeling.
Spock nodded. "Ah, yes. I was with Lieutenant Uhura and we began to argue. She left before we could resolve the dispute."
"Oh," Jim said. He frowned. Comforting Spock about his relationship troubles seemed a specifically difficult thing for him to do right now, but then again they were friends and this was what friends did. Jim was planning on keeping his friendship with Spock. He was going to have to get used to this aspect of it. Fast.
"If you do not wish for me to speak to you about Lieutenant Uhura, all you have to do is say so," Spock said, abruptly.
"No, I mean, it's fine. Well… actually." Jim cut himself off, shaking his head. "Can I get back to you?"
"Excuse me?" Spock asked.
"No, it's all right," Jim said. "I mean, I want you to talk to me. About whatever you want to." He made an expansive hand gesture. "Uhura's included in that, okay? Everything's included in that."
"So what'd she say?" Time to be a man about this. He was Captain of a starship, for crying out loud. He could handle a bit of romantic woe.
"Lieutenant Uhura overheard our conversation on Lambda Four when you asked me about Vulcan," Spock said.
Jim's eyes widened. "She did?" He hadn't known that. The thought of her listening to them speaking and not letting them know she was awake was particularly creepy to Jim. Then again, if it had been him listening to Spock and Uhura talking, he was sure he would have done the exact same thing. He couldn't actively fault her for it.
Actually, knowing Uhura had listened to that conversation explained why she'd been so confusing right before they'd beamed back to the ship. At least now he knew that she was only wondering just how close he and Spock had gotten as friends. It had been a pretty intense conversation, after all. It made sense that she was wondering about it.
That was an incredible relief for Jim. He had been worried she'd picked up on something else, but she hadn't. It had been normal girlfriend curiosity. Nothing strange or unusual about it.
"Yes," Spock continued. "Lieutenant Uhura was upset that I spoke with you about Vulcan as opposed to her. I explained to her that you had asked me and she had not, but that only served to increase her irritation."
"Well, that kind of makes sense," Jim said, preparing himself. This was it. He had to defend Uhura to Spock. Oh God. He might accidentally screw this up and ruin their relationship or something. But he could get it right if he just pretended like he wasn't personally invested in the outcome of their argument. And it wasn't even actually pretending because he simply wasn't. Whether they made up or broke up wouldn't affect him in any way. He just had to remember that. "After all, she's your girlfriend. She wants you to talk to her about important stuff."
"I understand that," Spock said. "However it is illogical for her to assume that I will speak to her about certain topics without her asking me to." His lips thinned and his steps slowed. Jim had to stop walking for a few beats so he didn't accidentally move too far ahead of him. "The Vulcan Massacre is an event that caused many people discomfort. It is not a topic I would bring up without knowing the reception it would receive."
"Okay, that's fine and all," Jim replied. "But you've got to think about it like this. When you're dating someone, that person isn't exactly supposed to follow the usual rules for stuff like that." Jim struggled for a second, trying to think of a way to explain this that wouldn't get Spock even more confused than he already was. "Okay, think of it like this. The person you're dating is your, um…" Jim trailed off, waving a hand in the air. "Emotional support or whatever. And that means they expect you to go to them if you've got any problems. Without them asking, I mean."
Spock was silent. Jim contented himself with walking next to him and not worrying too much about what he'd said. It was true, after all. People relied on whoever they were dating instinctively. The fact that Spock didn't get this suggested to Jim that he and Uhura really wouldn't last, but now wasn't the time to say that. All he could hope to do was get his point across to Spock that Uhura actually did have a fair complaint. Sure, Jim disagreed on general principle, but then again he wasn't dating her. He could disagree without having to deal with the consequences. Spock was the one who was going to have to explain himself to her.
"I think I understand," Spock said, slowly. "Vulcans view relationships in a somewhat different manner."
"Really? How?" Jim asked, immediately curious despite his intentions to help Spock relax.
"Romantic relationships are not always the best source of emotional support," Spock said. "There are many instances of Vulcans who feel closer to a friend than a romantic partner."
"Are there?" Jim asked, frowning. "That's really weird."
"Is it?" Spock asked.
"Well, humans kind of fall on the idea that you should feel closest to who you're with," Jim explained. "Or dating or whatever you want to call it. Not everybody but a lot of them think so."
"It does appear that Uhura follows that mindset," Spock said. "I will have to consider this carefully."
"All right," Jim said. "It can be, like, your next lesson in being less Vulcan and more human."
"I will never be less Vulcan or more human," Spock stated, stiffly. "I am exactly half of both species."
"No, I didn't mean it like that," Jim said, frowning and biting his lower lip. He really was just so stupid sometimes. He could barely stand himself. "God, sorry, I was just saying that you'd said before that you were trying to learn how to live with humans, so this could be the next step in that whole process. But you're right, I shouldn't have said it like that. Sorry."
"You are already forgiven, Jim," Spock said. "I am used to your verbal… shenanigans."
Jim grinned so widely he thought his face would start hurting from it. "My verbal shenanigans?" he repeated. "Who says that, seriously?"
"I could use a synonym if you feel it would be more appropriate," Spock replied.
"No," Jim said. "I think shenanigans is pretty awesome, actually."
They arrived at Spock's room and Jim waited while Spock opened the door. He paused inside the doorframe, and suddenly it hit Jim again just how much he liked Spock. The light in his room was dim thanks to how late it was, and from Jim's viewpoint it surrounded Spock until he was a silhouette in the doorway. The heat from his room only added to the strange sensation of living this moment from two different perspectives—someone who was a friend and someone who was in love.
"Well," Jim said, when they'd stood there staring at each other for long enough that Jim felt awkward about it. "Good night."
"Good night, Jim," Spock said. "I will see you in the morning."
Spock turned and went into his room. The door closed between them and then the effect was gone, quickly replaced by a sense of separation and loneliness. It was stupid how quickly he could go from feeling warm and fulfilled to feeling small and unsure.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
That night Spock laid in his bed and thought about Uhura. She was a nice girl, a wonderful girl. She possessed many traits that Vulcans prized—intelligence, the ability to come to decisions quickly and with no fuss, the ability to separate her emotions from her actions. There was enough about her that was good and interesting that Spock had thought agreeing to be with her for six months wouldn't be so bad. He had thought he would simply get to know her better—learn more about what her interests were and why she became a xenolinguist and perhaps more personal information such as why she enjoyed singing or what her family was like. He hadn't imagined it would be this way. He felt pressured all the time. Everything he was doing was wrong where Uhura was concerned, and it seemed like his agreement to this six months had far-reaching consequences he hadn't been able to predict.
Now, though, all he could think was how right Jim had unintentionally been. Spock was half human and couldn't avoid that half, no matter how hard he tried to. There was a large part of him that did believe the strongest emotional connection people had should be with their lovers. That was both logical and convenient to him. Anything else led to problems like those he was currently having with Uhura. He didn't want to fight with her, but they had enough problems simply attempting to understand what the other one was saying. For some reason, Jim's confusing statements made sense to him while Uhura's had him puzzled. It was completely illogical. He needed to do something to fix his relationship with her before it deteriorated completely.
But then again, why did he have to act so human? He was also half Vulcan. There had to be a way to solve this issue that would satisfy him and not force him to choose between two polar opposites. There was always a middle ground. It was simply a matter of discovering what it was. In minutes, Spock came to the only conclusion he could. He had given his word to Uhura that he would try and make their relationship work, and so far all he had done was ignore her and be put off by her advances. She was sticking to their agreement while he wasn't. His behavior would be frowned upon by both Vulcans and humans, which was really saying something. So at the very least, he needed to make an effort to abide by the terms he had agreed to. To do any less was to act in a way that was completely disrespectful to both of them.
With that thought in mind, Uhura's complaint began to make a lot more sense. Jim's explanation only convinced him that he had been in the wrong. He had been placing more importance on his relationship with Jim than on his relationship with Uhura, and although they were two different kinds of relationships, he could still understand why she would be frustrated when he had confided in Jim as opposed to her. It had been easy and natural to talk to Jim—it always was. With Uhura, it was always a struggle. But that was most likely because he had been giving Jim more of his time and consideration. If he focused on Uhura, things would be different.
Spock immediately got up and walked out of his room towards Uhura's quarters. He didn't want to let this fight progress any further. He would apologize and try to make some gesture that she would appreciate. Hopefully that would assuage her fears as well as convince Spock himself that he was beginning to act in the way he should have been acting all along.
When Spock got to Uhura's quarters, he knocked on her door and waited for her to answer. It took only a few moments. She opened the door and blinked at him, confused.
"Spock?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"
He hesitated. What could he say? He hadn't thought this entirely through. He didn't want to admit to her that he hadn't been paying her enough attention, but he also didn't want to cause her any more distress. There was definitely something he could say that would put her at ease. But he couldn't think of anything. Instead of standing there trying to come up with something useful to say, Spock decided to go with his human half and use action. It was what Jim would do. He took a step towards Uhura, who still looked at him as if she didn't have any idea why he was there, and then pressed his lips to hers, so briefly he wondered if she would even know he had done it. When he stepped back she was looking at him with a small smile.
"Spock?" she asked. This time, though, her tone was lighter and obviously pleased.
"I apologize," Spock said, quietly. "You were right. I will try harder to make this relationship a successful one." That had been their deal, after all. If he didn't even try, what could he say at the end of the six months? That he had spent that whole time avoiding her and he didn't feel a connection with her so he wasn't going to continue dating her? That wouldn't be fair to her. It would also be a complete waste of both of their time and energy.
"Good," Uhura said, tilting her head and smiling at him.
"I will see you tomorrow," Spock stated.
"Yeah, see you tomorrow," she replied. She closed the door to her quarters as he turned away and walked back the way he had come.
Spock walked in quick, short strides down the corridor. His hands were clutched behind his back, fingers tightly gripping each other. This could only work if he gave it a fair chance. He wasn't prepared to go back on his word in such a huge, disconcerting way. If he wasn't entirely comfortable with the situation, well, he could learn to become more comfortable with it. It was only a matter of training and attitude. Vulcans were taught that from an early age—thought could overcome any bodily discomfort. There was no reason to let his emotions win. None at all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Part 8
Feedback is love. <3
Author:
kowaiyoukaiRating: R
Pairing: eventual like whoa Kirk/Spock (STFU), Spock/Uhura (blame JJ, not me)
Warning(s): Angst, meta, language, attempts at witty banter, overly-important tone, intentionally confusing parts, potentially OOC everybody
Spoilers: Star Trek XI (2009) (a.k.a. Star Trek XI, Star Trek 2009, Star Trek Reboot, New Trek, and can we please just pick one name for this fandom people?!)
Word Count: 6,833
Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Gene Roddenberry, mostly, but also a lot of other people/groups like Paramount, J.J. Abrams, and the various writers/directors. I'm not one of those people, sadly, because if I was I'd be filthy rich.
Beta Acknowledgment: None! I know there are errors, so please let me know if you see any! Thanks!
Summary: Jim quickly realized he was going to have to break the rules if he wanted to survive on the Enterprise.
A/N: HBP sucked. Then I had to write this part overnight so I could get it out today. Oh, man. Sometimes, life, you know? It's just… *le sigh*
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Othersides 1 | Part 6a | Part 6b | Part 6c
The first time Jim realized he liked boys in that way, he was twelve. He was in English class and the professor was droning on about some stupid old book that he was never going to read, and with the class being so boring the only thing Jim could think to do was stare blankly into space. He ended up looking at Johnny, who sat two seats in front and to the right of him, who hated math but loved English and never talked to him because one time Jim had said something cruel to him to impress his friends. Jim remembered the way Johnny's face had fallen, the way he had darted his eyes downward and hurried on, they way he had purposely avoided Jim for weeks after that until finally Jim had pushed his shoulder in the generic universal guy-signal of friendship and muttered "later." Johnny must have understood what Jim meant because from then on he didn't flinch away even though he never made an effort to interact with Jim, either.
It was weird that Jim was staring at him, but hey, line of sight and all of that, and it wasn't like it was his fault the seats were arranged alphabetically. So Jim stared without caring about it, because he was bored and wanted to be somewhere else, and then he was staring at the collar of Johnny's t-shirt, and from there it was easy to go to the base of his neck and let his eyes trail slowly up to reach his chin, his cheekbone, his ear.
Afterwards, when Jim realized what he had been doing, he knew it was wrong because he felt ashamed. People were much more accepting of this kind of thing now than they had been once, just like there had once been a time when black people were slaves and women couldn't vote and gay people couldn't get married, but those facts were simply items of interest to him now, small memorized lines that held no meaning to the world he lived in. So two guys or two girls being together wasn't anything anymore, it meant the same as any other kind of relationship, and even at twelve Jim had seen some pretty weird human and alien romances that defied even the broadest sense of archaic sexual terminology. What did you call it when a human being was involved with a five-legged, two-headed sentient squid? Besides gross. Obviously.
It seemed pointless to have terminology for this kind of thing, but of course some people insisted, and his step-father was one of them. Unfortunately, his step-father was also one of the few humans left who was very adamant about the "proper" kinds of relationships, and he was so vehement and outspoken about his opinion that Jim knew he would have to ignore his feelings unless he wanted to be thrown out into the Iowa desert-plains-endless-fields. So he learned to like girls, and as the years passed he eventually believed he did like girls and that the Johnny incident had been a one-time thing. He believed he could love a girl, a human girl of course, someone his step-father wouldn't beat him up over bringing home. There were times Jim thought his mother suspected something, but she never said and he never bothered to ask.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
With three Jacks in his hand, Jim should have been able to win the round. Usually he would have maneuvered his way around Scotty's loud exaggerations and Chekov's nervous finger tapping and Sulu's blank face, but for some reason even with the best hand Jim lost. He knew his mind wasn't fully on the game, but still. Three Jacks should have won him something. But McCoy won the round with a pair of tens because Jim had gone out earlier like an idiot when he only saw one Jack and didn't actually register the other two next to it. Then, because this was the way his life worked, when Jim threw his cards down in frustration McCoy glanced over to see what he had. His eyebrows shot up and he looked at Jim curiously. But that was easy enough to ignore. He'd been ignoring McCoy's weird looks for the past four days—nothing new there.
"You still playing?" McCoy asked. He shuffled the cards and looked at Jim, waiting for an answer before he dealt them.
Jim twisted his lips and scrunched his nose, face a picture of overdramatized confusion. "Uh… yeah?" He let the expression fade to a smile. "I've got to win my money back, after all."
"What money?" Scotty asked. "We're playing with potato chips." He picked one out of his hard-earned pile and bit into it, crunching loudly.
"Don't eat your money!" Jim shouted, waving a hand at him in frustration. "You'll have nothing left to bet with."
"One last hand then," McCoy said. "It's already three-thirty." He dealt the cards swiftly, wrist flicking as each card slid across the table to land in front of or near the player.
"In the morning?" Chekov asked, incredulously.
"No," McCoy answered, monotone.
"Can we just play, please?" Sulu said. "I've got a shift in four hours."
Jim picked up his cards and looked at them carefully, making sure he looked at each one carefully before realizing his hand was useless. Well, he'd stay in anyway and make it look like he had a chance. Even if he wasn't focused on the game, he didn't want to completely miss the experience. Sure, they played a few times a week, but it was relaxing. Or, at least, it was supposed to be relaxing. And it would have been, too, if Jim hadn't been internally freaking out.
So he loved Spock. Big deal. Really, what did it matter? He didn't have to do anything about it. He could just go on as if nothing had happened. Because nothing actually had happened. Uhura hadn't said anything else to him, and she and Spock were still trying to have some kind of epic romance or something. But what did he care? He didn't care. Not even a little. Spock could go and flirt with whoever he wanted to. Not his problem.
Except that he thought he was developing a nervous tick. Because every time he saw them together his eyes sort of itched and then they looked at him strangely. He thought perhaps he was having some kind of uncontrollable reaction, like sneezing. And that wouldn't really go over too well if it kept on happening. He needed to find a way to just accept the facts. Spock and Uhura were dating, and they were going to be dating for at least another four and a half months unless Spock suddenly decided to back out on his word. That was, of course, impossible, so Jim needed to get used to the idea of Spock seeing other people really quickly.
He closed his eyes in irritation at his own stupidity. ‘Seeing other people'—what was that? He and Spock had never been together and were never going to get together and four days was really enough time to suck it up and get over it. He could just love Spock secretly and not give himself away and everything would be fine.
Besides, he wasn't even entirely sure it was love. How were people supposed to know for sure that they were in love? He'd felt it so strongly before, and he still felt it hit him every time he saw Spock, but then when they separated it sort of slowly got less. Until he saw something that reminded him of Spock, like when he went into the lift and remembered the last time he and Spock had been in there together when nothing at all interesting had happened except Spock had raised an eyebrow at him and he had sort of felt all disgusting and nervous and tight about it and he'd thought he was going to laugh or throw up but then they'd gotten to the bridge and the crisis was suddenly over. Or when someone mentioned something that reminded him of Spock, like when he'd passed these two crew members talking about rushing to finish reports on time and he'd encouraged them and moved on but then he knew that they'd have to face his fearless First Officer's wrath if they were late and after that thinking about how Spock would get all irritated and his lips would press together and he'd just stand there silently berating them was actually exciting and amusing to Jim.
He hadn't thought it was going to be like this. Love was supposed to be all rainbows and fluffy bunny rabbits, wasn't it? What the hell was up with him getting excited over Spock making his crew cry? It was morally wrong on some level, he was sure of it.
But the most unexpected part so far had been just how much he wanted to tell Spock. He knew he couldn't, but he really, really, really wanted to. It was like every time he saw Spock he had to stop himself from shouting about it. And it was just so obvious to him that he thought Spock must already know because how could he not? Wasn't it clear just by looking at Jim? That's what he felt like—that trying to be calm and not give himself away was just a waste of time because somehow he'd already accidentally given himself away, and now it was only a matter of time before this whole charade came crashing down around him.
But nobody knew. Nobody acted any differently, and besides the weird looks from McCoy and Uhura's unnerving comment, there'd been nothing. So he was safe and able to hide it for now, and he intended to keep it that way.
Jim had only been paying half attention to his cards, so of course he lost when it was time to reveal his hand, but that was fine because Scotty had been right—they'd only been playing for potato chips. What did it matter if he lost, really?
Scotty started downing his chips as soon as the game was over, sitting there like he didn't have work in four hours. Sulu immediately said good night and left. Chekov followed a few minutes later, yawning and blinking too often. They both had to be in half an hour earlier than everyone else the next day thanks to a new course that had them diverting around an asteroid belt. Those were the trials and tribulations of being the pilot and navigator. McCoy put the cards away and sat there, looking for all the world like he had nothing better to do than sit in a rec room at almost four in the morning.
"All right, I'm done," Scotty said, wiping his hands on his shirt. "See you bright and early, Captain."
Jim nodded at him. "Night, Scotty."
After he left, the silence was so thick in the room Jim thought he might drown in it. He was planning on waiting it out and hoping McCoy caved first, but of course that didn't happen. In less than a minute he looked at McCoy, who was staring at him, and spread his hands in front of him.
"What," Jim stated, shortly. "What is it?"
"Nothing," McCoy said. "Why's there got to be something?"
"You've been acting weird," Jim said. "I don't get it."
"What, I'm not allowed to sit here?" McCoy raised his eyebrows and shook his head in annoyance, and the gesture was so familiar that Jim swallowed and ran a hand over his face. He couldn't stay here like this. Whatever was wrong with McCoy, he'd figure it out later when he wasn't so focused on his own problems.
"I'm just going to sleep," Jim said, one corner of his mouth curving upwards in reassurance. It didn't work. McCoy still frowned when Jim pushed his chair back, scraping it against the floor with a sharp sound. "It's too late to be doing this." He left without waiting for McCoy's reply, because he knew if he waited McCoy might understand what he'd really meant.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Uhura had asked Spock to reserve a room for them to spend time together in. Spock had reserved one of the recreation rooms even though he wasn't exactly sure what her idea of spending time was going to be. Still, he was willing to give her what she wanted. Uhura had been acting oddly since they had returned from Lambda Four. Spock assumed this was because she had succumbed to the disease and felt badly about it. It would be a very human thing to do—feel badly about getting sick.
However, now that they were here, she was acting even stranger. They had spent the past two hours playing a board game that he didn't try to win and accidentally won anyway. She was slightly upset but not horribly so. Spock didn't know how to talk to her when she acted this way. It was hard enough speaking with her normally. When she was in a bad mood it was next to impossible.
"Perhaps we should get some rest?" Spock asked.
"All right," Uhura said. She closed her eyes and leaned towards him. Spock stepped away from her, immediately unsure. She waited there a few seconds before opening her eyes and looking at him in confusion. "What's the problem?"
Spock had been trying to avoid this conversation. He'd hoped she would wait until he agreed to kiss her. In that case, he would have avoided it until the six months were up. It hadn't been a great plan, but it had been the only one he had that had any chance at succeeding. It was going to be awful discussing this with her now, when she was already unhappy.
"I am currently not prepared for any signs of physical affection," Spock said. That was clear and concise. There was no way she could misunderstand.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Spock resisted the urge to either sigh heavily or roll his eyes. Was there something in human DNA that forced them to act this way? "I mean that I am not ready to become physically intimate at this time."
"No, I hear you," Uhura said, frowning. "But that doesn't make sense."
"I do not know how to make the statement any clearer," Spock replied.
"No, what I'm saying is that we're dating, so kissing shouldn't be a big deal. Right?" Uhura asked, looking at Spock and shrugging a little.
"Perhaps normally," Spock allowed. "However I do not feel comfortable engaging in physical intimacy with you at this time."
"Okay," Uhura said, slowly. "So then, when?"
It was obvious she thought her statement made sense by itself. "Please explain what you mean," Spock said.
Uhura sighed. "I'm asking you when you'll feel comfortable kissing me again."
"I do not know," Spock replied. Of course he did know the answer, but telling her would be a disastrous move.
"I know you're still upset over what happened," Uhura said. Spock did not understand what exactly she was referring to. The Vulcan Massacre was the obvious reference, but she could have been talking about their recent mission or else some other event that she had given importance which hadn't made a lasting impression on him. But it was most likely Nero's attack. "But we kissed right afterwards and you didn't have a problem with it then."
Spock hesitated. He was certain now that she was speaking about the Vulcan Massacre, but he still had no idea how to reply. Telling her that their first kiss had made no impression on him thanks to his state of shock wasn't possible. It was also a bad idea to tell her that their second kiss had been incredibly uncomfortable for him, for similar reasons. He'd known this for a while and nothing had changed, but he still hadn't thought of what to tell her.
Luckily, Uhura was not the type of person who would stay silent until he replied. When he had been quiet for several seconds, she said, "I have something to tell you. I wasn't going to say anything, but now I think I have to." Spock waited while she licked her lips. "I overheard you and Kirk talking."
Spock waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he said, "Captain Kirk and I have spoken on numerous occasions. Was there one specific instance you were referring to?"
Uhura looked briefly at the ceiling before she said, "I meant that night on Lambda Four when he asked you about Vulcan."
"Ah," Spock said. Discomfort attacked him in waves. "I was unaware you were awake during that time."
"Yeah," Uhura said, slowly. "I know."
"Why did you remain silent?" Spock asked. It seemed incredibly… sneaky or manipulative, perhaps, to pretend to be asleep. He had no idea why she would have done that, but it also struck him that the conversation she had overheard had been private. It felt like she had unintentionally violated something she had no business taking part in. He didn't necessarily mind her hearing about Vulcan—in fact, he had meant what he said. The more people who learned about Vulcan culture now, the better. But Jim's contributions to the conversation had been more hesitant and personal. Spock didn't think he would have acted that way if he had known she was awake.
"It seemed rude to interrupt," Uhura said. "I didn't want to intrude."
Spock didn't actually know how to interpret that explanation, so he let it go. The entire situation had already occurred, and he couldn't change what had happened. So there really was no point in arguing with her about her motivations.
"Thank you for telling me," Spock said, which seemed like an appropriate response.
Uhura shuffled her feet, a sure sign she was nervous and uncomfortable. "I needed to because I've got a question." She looked directly at him. "Why didn't you ever tell me any of that?"
"You never asked," Spock replied. Again, with humans asking questions that had obvious answers.
"But you're dating me," Uhura said, blinking. "I shouldn't have to ask. You're supposed to want to talk to me about that sort of thing."
"Would you like me to tell you about Vulcan?" Spock asked, hoping he was interpreting her complaint correctly.
"Do you want to tell me about Vulcan?" Uhura responded.
"I will tell you about Vulcan if you wish to hear it, but I do not want to give you information you have no interest in," Spock stated. This was really getting confusing now. If she would just be clear, everything would be easier.
"You know what? Forget it," Uhura said, shaking her head. "You don't understand what I'm saying, do you?"
"Apparently I do not understand. Please explain what you mean," Spock said. He was willing to be patient if it would solve whatever this problem was. He actually wasn't quite sure what the problem was, but he was sure there was one.
"You've been asking me to explain what I mean a lot," Uhura said, pressing her lips together.
"I apologize," Spock said, holding back his own frustration which was now threatening to explode out of him. "I do not always understand your meaning when you imply something as opposed to being specific."
"Well, I'll try to be specific in the future," Uhura snapped. She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, leaving Spock wondering what he had said that infuriated her so much.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Homosexuality was completely illogical. The purpose of being physically intimate with another person was to produce children. Vulcans were as logical about that as they were about everything else in life. Any emotions that might come out during sex were ignored. In fact, there were some Vulcans who had chosen partners based on who was the most compatible genetically, as opposed to the Vulcans who chose partners who they actually liked—or got along with well enough to discuss every topic in the galaxy. Taking physical pleasure from sex was acceptable because that was a natural part of the process, but having sex just for its own sake was considered morally inappropriate. This was part of the reason pon farr was so horrible to go through. It took away all control and left everyone at the mercy of their emotions. When they had the choice, Vulcans chose to ignore the primal side of their nature and focus on what they had all spent years learning.
Spock knew this and had never questioned it. Of course a man and a woman would become bond mates—how else would a child be produced? It was something that had simply never come up for him before. Of course emotions were central in picking a bond mate. Even Vulcans knew that, although they did not speak of it. Still, if a Vulcan had a strong emotional connection with both a member of the same and opposite gender, then that Vulcan would become bond mates with the person of the opposite gender and stay friends with the person of the same gender. That was simply logical.
In fact, Spock remembered the first time he had seen a homosexual couple on Earth. They had been two female students in one of his classes. He had thought they were only friends until one day he had gotten to class early and saw them kissing. Of course he had continued walking to his desk without pause. When they noticed him there, one of the girls blushed and hit her partner while the other one laughed. Spock hadn't at first understood what it was he had seen. It had taken him a bit of studying that night to realize that it was not actually a human tradition for friends to kiss in that manner, and although some Earth cultures did have similar traditions, the students in Starfleet did not share them. Then he had come to the only obvious conclusion that the two were lovers, and at that point he'd closed the book and went back to writing the mid-term exam he had been working on.
The idea of homosexuality didn't bother him. It was just another illogical action that humans and other species practiced. They were illogical so much of the time that adding something else to his already incredibly long mental list had no real impact on him. Spock knew other Vulcans might have different ideas—he'd gone to school with several who had looked down on him for his easy dismissal of illogical behavior. Still, his human half gave him the wisdom and emotion to understand the point of most of human behavior. It was all about feelings for them, completely about their emotions from one moment to the next, and so they acted impulsively even when they thought they were planning ahead and being careful. It was confusing, of course, but he was still learning how to interpret it. One day he would know exactly why people did all the odd things they did—like speak out loud when they thought no one was listening, eat food they knew was harmful to their bodies, and cheat on tests that covered material they would need to know for their future careers. Engaging in physical intimacy with a member of the same sex was just another bulleted item in a long line of them. It meant nothing to Spock, especially since he knew he would never be illogical enough to engage in any of the behavior on his mental list.
It all came down to one fact. Vulcans would never ignore logic to follow any emotion, no matter how strong that emotion was. They had fierce emotions that they kept hidden and they learned to ignored, but that didn't mean anything. Logic was what won out every time over emotion. Spock had been raised that way, and in the end, he believed it was the best, and only, way to live. He knew his emotions were harder to control than they should have been. But still, he was able to ignore them for the most part. He was keeping his promise to Uhura even though he felt no true emotional connection to her, and he was still able to maintain a friendship with Jim that felt more emotionally satisfying than anything else he had ever felt. He had found a careful balance between logic and emotion. Surely that counted for something, didn't it?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jim had been heading to his room when he saw Spock walking out of a rec room. He seemed irritated or confused about something. Jim wasn't exactly feeling up to dealing with Spock shouting at him, but he knew he was going to go and ask what was wrong anyway. That was just how pathetic he was right now.
"Spock, hey," Jim said. Spock looked over at Jim and stopped walking, waiting for Jim to catch up to him.
"Jim," Spock greeted him. "I thought you were normally already in your quarters by this time."
Jim shrugged. "What can I say? Being Captain, you know, it's a tough job."
"I am on my way to my own quarters," Spock said.
"Oh, yeah, well, okay," Jim said. He scratched his chin and then decided to throw caution to the wind, as some idiot somewhere had once said, and give himself more shit to deal with. "Can I walk you there?"
Spock paused. "Your quarters are on the opposite side of the ship from mine."
Jim laughed once, loudly, then abruptly shut up before he sounded too manic. "Shit, they are, aren't they? Well, I don't care though. I'll walk there and back. Who cares?"
"I see," Spock said, raising an eyebrow. "Of course I will appreciate your company, even though your behavior is completely illogical."
Jim grinned. "It is, is it?"
"Yes," Spock said. "However I am becoming used to these illogical outbursts. They are not as off-putting as they once were."
"Oh," Jim said. "I guess that's good?"
"It is," Spock said.
They began walking towards Spock's room, Jim staying next to him but not saying anything. There wasn't really anything he could think to say that wouldn't give him away. He didn't want to shout about how much in love he was with Spock, because that would be bad, but every other conversation topic seemed less interesting and important when compared to that one obvious, glaring omission. Expecting Spock to make conversation, though, wasn't exactly going to end well. Spock had no problems walking in silence, especially when he felt comfortable. But Jim had noticed his mind was elsewhere, an when he had first seen Spock there had been something bothering him. It would be worth it to see what the problem was. Even if Jim couldn't do anything to help solve it, sometimes it really was enough to just listen.
"So," Jim said, just to say something. "What happened?" Spock glanced at him, frowning. "I mean, you seem sort of…" Jim shrugged and waved a hand around to indicate a general negative feeling.
Spock nodded. "Ah, yes. I was with Lieutenant Uhura and we began to argue. She left before we could resolve the dispute."
"Oh," Jim said. He frowned. Comforting Spock about his relationship troubles seemed a specifically difficult thing for him to do right now, but then again they were friends and this was what friends did. Jim was planning on keeping his friendship with Spock. He was going to have to get used to this aspect of it. Fast.
"If you do not wish for me to speak to you about Lieutenant Uhura, all you have to do is say so," Spock said, abruptly.
"No, I mean, it's fine. Well… actually." Jim cut himself off, shaking his head. "Can I get back to you?"
"Excuse me?" Spock asked.
"No, it's all right," Jim said. "I mean, I want you to talk to me. About whatever you want to." He made an expansive hand gesture. "Uhura's included in that, okay? Everything's included in that."
"So what'd she say?" Time to be a man about this. He was Captain of a starship, for crying out loud. He could handle a bit of romantic woe.
"Lieutenant Uhura overheard our conversation on Lambda Four when you asked me about Vulcan," Spock said.
Jim's eyes widened. "She did?" He hadn't known that. The thought of her listening to them speaking and not letting them know she was awake was particularly creepy to Jim. Then again, if it had been him listening to Spock and Uhura talking, he was sure he would have done the exact same thing. He couldn't actively fault her for it.
Actually, knowing Uhura had listened to that conversation explained why she'd been so confusing right before they'd beamed back to the ship. At least now he knew that she was only wondering just how close he and Spock had gotten as friends. It had been a pretty intense conversation, after all. It made sense that she was wondering about it.
That was an incredible relief for Jim. He had been worried she'd picked up on something else, but she hadn't. It had been normal girlfriend curiosity. Nothing strange or unusual about it.
"Yes," Spock continued. "Lieutenant Uhura was upset that I spoke with you about Vulcan as opposed to her. I explained to her that you had asked me and she had not, but that only served to increase her irritation."
"Well, that kind of makes sense," Jim said, preparing himself. This was it. He had to defend Uhura to Spock. Oh God. He might accidentally screw this up and ruin their relationship or something. But he could get it right if he just pretended like he wasn't personally invested in the outcome of their argument. And it wasn't even actually pretending because he simply wasn't. Whether they made up or broke up wouldn't affect him in any way. He just had to remember that. "After all, she's your girlfriend. She wants you to talk to her about important stuff."
"I understand that," Spock said. "However it is illogical for her to assume that I will speak to her about certain topics without her asking me to." His lips thinned and his steps slowed. Jim had to stop walking for a few beats so he didn't accidentally move too far ahead of him. "The Vulcan Massacre is an event that caused many people discomfort. It is not a topic I would bring up without knowing the reception it would receive."
"Okay, that's fine and all," Jim replied. "But you've got to think about it like this. When you're dating someone, that person isn't exactly supposed to follow the usual rules for stuff like that." Jim struggled for a second, trying to think of a way to explain this that wouldn't get Spock even more confused than he already was. "Okay, think of it like this. The person you're dating is your, um…" Jim trailed off, waving a hand in the air. "Emotional support or whatever. And that means they expect you to go to them if you've got any problems. Without them asking, I mean."
Spock was silent. Jim contented himself with walking next to him and not worrying too much about what he'd said. It was true, after all. People relied on whoever they were dating instinctively. The fact that Spock didn't get this suggested to Jim that he and Uhura really wouldn't last, but now wasn't the time to say that. All he could hope to do was get his point across to Spock that Uhura actually did have a fair complaint. Sure, Jim disagreed on general principle, but then again he wasn't dating her. He could disagree without having to deal with the consequences. Spock was the one who was going to have to explain himself to her.
"I think I understand," Spock said, slowly. "Vulcans view relationships in a somewhat different manner."
"Really? How?" Jim asked, immediately curious despite his intentions to help Spock relax.
"Romantic relationships are not always the best source of emotional support," Spock said. "There are many instances of Vulcans who feel closer to a friend than a romantic partner."
"Are there?" Jim asked, frowning. "That's really weird."
"Is it?" Spock asked.
"Well, humans kind of fall on the idea that you should feel closest to who you're with," Jim explained. "Or dating or whatever you want to call it. Not everybody but a lot of them think so."
"It does appear that Uhura follows that mindset," Spock said. "I will have to consider this carefully."
"All right," Jim said. "It can be, like, your next lesson in being less Vulcan and more human."
"I will never be less Vulcan or more human," Spock stated, stiffly. "I am exactly half of both species."
"No, I didn't mean it like that," Jim said, frowning and biting his lower lip. He really was just so stupid sometimes. He could barely stand himself. "God, sorry, I was just saying that you'd said before that you were trying to learn how to live with humans, so this could be the next step in that whole process. But you're right, I shouldn't have said it like that. Sorry."
"You are already forgiven, Jim," Spock said. "I am used to your verbal… shenanigans."
Jim grinned so widely he thought his face would start hurting from it. "My verbal shenanigans?" he repeated. "Who says that, seriously?"
"I could use a synonym if you feel it would be more appropriate," Spock replied.
"No," Jim said. "I think shenanigans is pretty awesome, actually."
They arrived at Spock's room and Jim waited while Spock opened the door. He paused inside the doorframe, and suddenly it hit Jim again just how much he liked Spock. The light in his room was dim thanks to how late it was, and from Jim's viewpoint it surrounded Spock until he was a silhouette in the doorway. The heat from his room only added to the strange sensation of living this moment from two different perspectives—someone who was a friend and someone who was in love.
"Well," Jim said, when they'd stood there staring at each other for long enough that Jim felt awkward about it. "Good night."
"Good night, Jim," Spock said. "I will see you in the morning."
Spock turned and went into his room. The door closed between them and then the effect was gone, quickly replaced by a sense of separation and loneliness. It was stupid how quickly he could go from feeling warm and fulfilled to feeling small and unsure.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
That night Spock laid in his bed and thought about Uhura. She was a nice girl, a wonderful girl. She possessed many traits that Vulcans prized—intelligence, the ability to come to decisions quickly and with no fuss, the ability to separate her emotions from her actions. There was enough about her that was good and interesting that Spock had thought agreeing to be with her for six months wouldn't be so bad. He had thought he would simply get to know her better—learn more about what her interests were and why she became a xenolinguist and perhaps more personal information such as why she enjoyed singing or what her family was like. He hadn't imagined it would be this way. He felt pressured all the time. Everything he was doing was wrong where Uhura was concerned, and it seemed like his agreement to this six months had far-reaching consequences he hadn't been able to predict.
Now, though, all he could think was how right Jim had unintentionally been. Spock was half human and couldn't avoid that half, no matter how hard he tried to. There was a large part of him that did believe the strongest emotional connection people had should be with their lovers. That was both logical and convenient to him. Anything else led to problems like those he was currently having with Uhura. He didn't want to fight with her, but they had enough problems simply attempting to understand what the other one was saying. For some reason, Jim's confusing statements made sense to him while Uhura's had him puzzled. It was completely illogical. He needed to do something to fix his relationship with her before it deteriorated completely.
But then again, why did he have to act so human? He was also half Vulcan. There had to be a way to solve this issue that would satisfy him and not force him to choose between two polar opposites. There was always a middle ground. It was simply a matter of discovering what it was. In minutes, Spock came to the only conclusion he could. He had given his word to Uhura that he would try and make their relationship work, and so far all he had done was ignore her and be put off by her advances. She was sticking to their agreement while he wasn't. His behavior would be frowned upon by both Vulcans and humans, which was really saying something. So at the very least, he needed to make an effort to abide by the terms he had agreed to. To do any less was to act in a way that was completely disrespectful to both of them.
With that thought in mind, Uhura's complaint began to make a lot more sense. Jim's explanation only convinced him that he had been in the wrong. He had been placing more importance on his relationship with Jim than on his relationship with Uhura, and although they were two different kinds of relationships, he could still understand why she would be frustrated when he had confided in Jim as opposed to her. It had been easy and natural to talk to Jim—it always was. With Uhura, it was always a struggle. But that was most likely because he had been giving Jim more of his time and consideration. If he focused on Uhura, things would be different.
Spock immediately got up and walked out of his room towards Uhura's quarters. He didn't want to let this fight progress any further. He would apologize and try to make some gesture that she would appreciate. Hopefully that would assuage her fears as well as convince Spock himself that he was beginning to act in the way he should have been acting all along.
When Spock got to Uhura's quarters, he knocked on her door and waited for her to answer. It took only a few moments. She opened the door and blinked at him, confused.
"Spock?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"
He hesitated. What could he say? He hadn't thought this entirely through. He didn't want to admit to her that he hadn't been paying her enough attention, but he also didn't want to cause her any more distress. There was definitely something he could say that would put her at ease. But he couldn't think of anything. Instead of standing there trying to come up with something useful to say, Spock decided to go with his human half and use action. It was what Jim would do. He took a step towards Uhura, who still looked at him as if she didn't have any idea why he was there, and then pressed his lips to hers, so briefly he wondered if she would even know he had done it. When he stepped back she was looking at him with a small smile.
"Spock?" she asked. This time, though, her tone was lighter and obviously pleased.
"I apologize," Spock said, quietly. "You were right. I will try harder to make this relationship a successful one." That had been their deal, after all. If he didn't even try, what could he say at the end of the six months? That he had spent that whole time avoiding her and he didn't feel a connection with her so he wasn't going to continue dating her? That wouldn't be fair to her. It would also be a complete waste of both of their time and energy.
"Good," Uhura said, tilting her head and smiling at him.
"I will see you tomorrow," Spock stated.
"Yeah, see you tomorrow," she replied. She closed the door to her quarters as he turned away and walked back the way he had come.
Spock walked in quick, short strides down the corridor. His hands were clutched behind his back, fingers tightly gripping each other. This could only work if he gave it a fair chance. He wasn't prepared to go back on his word in such a huge, disconcerting way. If he wasn't entirely comfortable with the situation, well, he could learn to become more comfortable with it. It was only a matter of training and attitude. Vulcans were taught that from an early age—thought could overcome any bodily discomfort. There was no reason to let his emotions win. None at all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Part 8
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