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Jim Kirk never considered himself a particularly superstitious man. Even in his, as yet quite short, career as a starship captain, he’d met his fair share of more seasoned captains who had developed something like a belief in the mythical and had concocted groundless rituals and routines to stay on the favorable side of whatever force seemed to move the Cosmos forward. In his more romantic thoughts, Kirk supposed it had something of the old-time sailor in it. When facing the unknown, the mind grabbed on to anything it could to try to control the outcome. So, if after a few drinks, an admiral would ask if captains still made sure to tap the side of the command chair three times before approaching any unknown ship, Kirk at least understood the impulse behind it.
He didn’t think he was superstitious, but Kirk did firmly believe that as soon as a captain had the thought that things were being too quiet, that, and dare he admit it to himself, he might be a bit bored, it was immediately after such a thought that some catastrophe would befall the ship.
The Enterprise was on a star-charting mission and had taken a detour to a local class-M planet. An utterly unremarkable class-M planet with nothing of note that Kirk could think of but that had captivated his science staff nonetheless. Spock had led the landing party to the planet’s surface, eager in that not-eager way of his that Kirk immediately recognized as his mind being hungry for some kind of fascinating new discovery. Kirk had grinned back at him when he’d agreed to let Spock beam down.
But now. Now, Kirk was slouched in the captain’s chair, his fingers drumming against the armrest idly. All around him was the calm, beeping breathing of a living starship, moving with a gentle peace as they gently orbited the planet. Everything working as it should. That unbroken serenity had lulled Kirk into a false sense of security and unbidden came the dreaded thought: he was bored.
The computer on the armrest before him suddenly lit up as an incoming intra-ship message filtered into the bridge from the transporter room. Eyes widening, Kirk quickly answered the hail and Scotty’s brogue filled the tranquil bridge.
“Captain,” he said. “Ye might want to get down to the transporter. There’s been a... well, I suppose, an accident involving the commander.”
Kirk’s heart pitched in his chest, but Scotty didn’t sound frightened. If Kirk didn’t know better, he’d guess that the engineer was nervously amused. There had been something that sounded like a smile coloring his voice. Which was strange considering the content of his actual words but when one succumbed to the thought of boredom on the starship bridge, one expected the most hellish emergency to appear.
As quickly as he dared to move without inspiring panic in the rest of his officers, Kirk made his way into the turbolift and then stiffly entered the transporter room, trying his best not to assume he was about to step into a scene out of a horror holo.
When the doors hissed open, he saw Scotty amongst a pile of disgorged wires and diodes under the open transporter console. Beside him, Kirk recognized the pointed ears and shock of black hair that belonged to Spock. The two of them had their heads bent together, poking at the mess. A science officer Kirk didn’t recognize stood near them, bent over with one hand on his legs and the other pointing at a wire that was fizzling halfheartedly against the floor. The shape of the officer’s profile seemed almost familiar, but softer somehow than what Kirk was used to, a molten light to the eyes, deep and expressive, in a way that Kirk couldn’t quite place.
The three of them must not have heard his approach as they continued discussing the transporter in hushed tones. It wasn’t until the officer that was standing raised one of his thick eyebrows toward the height of his swooping bangs that realization washed over Kirk.
“Spock?” he said, as he walked further into the room. Both the standing officer and the one crouched among the wires looked up. One’s face was an impassive Vulcan mask, the other lit up immediately with a delighted smile.
“Captain,” they both said at the same time. The officer next to Scotty said it as a stoic utterance while the other spoke with a quiet awe that made Kirk feel quite warm suddenly.
Scotty shot to his feet and the two stood beside him, in matching stiff parade rests. Kirk looked between them. The Vulcan was much more apparently Spock-like but there was something off about him now that Kirk could get a closer look at him. His complexion was subtly paler, and his features more severe and gaunt. His eyes were colder than Kirk was used to, and after Kirk had prided himself on his ability to read Spock, the Vulcan before him was nearly indecipherable.
In contrast, the man beside him was an open book. His emotions clearly evident in his bearing. His mannerisms were the same as the Spock that Kirk knew, but where they were sharp and quick movements in Spock, they seemed to gently flow out of this man. He moved with a grace of being secure in his body that Spock hadn’t quite mastered himself. His eyes were Spock’s but more open and unguarded than Kirk had ever dared to imagine them. Rather than Spock’s customary straight bangs, this man’s hair fell about his ears in soft waves, almost loose curls. And those ears, which Kirk was only slightly shocked to see, were round.
“What happened?” Kirk asked tentatively. He couldn’t decide on which Spock to look at.
“I... well, we’re not sure,” Scotty said, wringing his hands. “The commander was just tryin to beam up and the transporter did a wee bit of protesting and suddenly now we have the spliced Mr. Spock you see before you.”
“Postpone any further beaming until we figure this out,” Kirk replied, immediately switching into captain mode even as his thoughts were spinning away from him. Human Spock kept trying to catch his eye, a smile smoldering along the edge of his lips, and Kirk tried his best not to be distracted by him. “Spock, uh, both of you, you’re on suspended duty until we know how this is going to affect you. And I want you to report to sickbay immediately. Have Bones look you both over.”
“I assure you, I feel fine,” the Vulcan said dutifully.
“Aww man, not Bones,” the human complained at the same time. “I know she’s your best friend but she is such a queen.” He let his shoulders sink dramatically, grinning before he straightened back up and flexed his arms. “Besides, I feel perfect. Better than I ever have. Like a weight has been lifted off me.” His eyes twinkled. “Don’t make me go see Her Royal Highness of sickbay.” He smirked as he clasped his hands beseechingly.
It was only Kirk’s professionalism that kept him from gaping at Spock, it was Spock for godssakes, as he camped the poor penitent. Scotty started to sputter out a giggle that he turned into a cough when Kirk looked at him.
“Both of you. Sickbay, please,” Kirk said on a sigh. “The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be done. And the closer we’ll hopefully be to what happened.” When both of the Spocks finally shifted toward the door, the Vulcan marching purposefully as the human slouched along beside him, Kirk turned to Scotty.
“Um, what the fuck was all that?” Kirk said in a conspiratorial whisper to his chief engineer.
“Not a bloody clue,” Scotty replied. “Vulcan Spock is like the commander but just... more so. The human Spock, well, Captain, he’s kind of funny.” He began to chuckle. “He immediately started henpecking the Vulcan. Reminds me a little bit of McCoy, if ye can believe it.”
“What? Spock?” Kirk started laughing then and realized exactly what that type of nervous amusement that had colored Scotty’s call to the bridge felt like as it squeezed through his own body. “Just like Bones?”
“I cannae believe it myself,” Scotty replied. He looked down at the mess that had been the transporter console not that long before. “Not the faintest idea yet as to what caused all this either. But I assure you, we’ll figure it out and have Mr. Spock back to his old self before too long.”
Kirk smiled at him. “I don’t doubt that at all.”
He made his way back to the bridge, reeling but trying not to show it. He couldn’t shake the way that the Vulcan Spock had stared coldly at him and he hated that he couldn’t read him. Likewise, he couldn’t stop replaying the heat in human Spock’s smile when he looked at Kirk. He couldn’t forget the casual way that his eyes crinkled with his mirth. It was uncanny how they could both be so Spock and so not-Spock at the same time.
Kirk really did have no doubt that Scotty and his team of engineers would figure it out and reverse the whole catastrophe before too long, but as he again sank into the captain’s chair on a peaceful bridge where everything moved as steady and practiced as clockwork, he couldn’t stop anxiety from fluttering in his stomach. It didn’t help that Uhura kept trying to meet his eye. Kirk knew that she and Spock had broken up ages ago, but they were still quite close and she’d no doubt heard Scotty’s message to the bridge.
His thoughts raced faster than ever as his shift inched closer to its end. It felt like utter eons had crawled by before his console lit up with a communique from the medbay. Kirk scrambled to answer it and Uhura moved closer, feigning some task with a PADD.
“Well, Bones?” Kirk demanded as soon as the channel was open.
“Well, Jim,” McCoy’s voice came through with his customary gruffness, though there was something even more exasperated about it than usual. “I had one perfectly healthy Vulcan male and one perfectly healthy human male in my sickbay for longer than I would have liked them to be there. Which seems like it should be the opposite of a problem, every doctor dreams of healthy patients after all, but I find that I don’t quite appreciate being ganged up on. It’s bad enough when it’s you and Spock. Now it’s Spock and Spock and let me tell you, I’d trade one of them for you any day of the week.”
“I’m touched,” Kirk replied. “But, really, there’s nothing off about either of them? Something there that shouldn’t be?”
“You mean something more than that there are two of them and one is the ‘pointy-eared’ and the other is the ‘bastard’ and never the twain shall meet?” Bones answered. “Cause I’d say that’s something damn odd, at the very least.”
Kirk rolled his eyes.
“Well, if you can’t find anything, I suppose you can let them leave your torture chamber,” Kirk said. “As I’m sure they’ve been dying to do since they got there.”
“Oh, I already did,” McCoy replied. “Spock said he was going to go help Scotty with the transporter while Simon said, and I’m quoting directly here, ‘mommy needs a drink’.”
“I’m sorry, who's Simon?”
“It’s what the human one is calling himself. They can’t both be Spock after all and it fit the Vulcan a bit more, we all decided.”
We all? Kirk suddenly got the feeling that despite McCoy’s protests to the contrary, it was in fact Kirk that was about to be ganged up on. And when Spock and Bones started agreeing on something, any little thing, it meant there was something unpleasant for Kirk in the future.
“How long ago did they leave sickbay?” Kirk asked.
“I’m not sure,” Bones said. “Ensign Williams came in with radiation burns from an experiment down in the science labs gone wrong and taking care of her seemed more important than babysitting a pair of perfectly model officers. An hour ago maybe? Two?”
“Alright, Bones. Thanks for babysitting.”
“Yea, yea.”
The connection fizzled into disconnection just as the computer signaled the end of alpha shift and the bridge officers’ relief shuffled out of the turbolift. Kirk rose and fell into step beside Uhura as they made their way off the bridge.
“So, Spock got split into his human and his Vulcan halves,” he said to her lamely. Unsure how to start such a conversation.
“I gathered that,” Uhura said. “You, Scotty, and Leonard are not exactly quiet talkers.” She paused as they stepped into the lift together. “Is he alright?”
“As far as anyone can tell,” Kirk answered. “Just, you know, different.” He paused, contemplating the turbolift controls. “I think I’m going back to the transporter to see if Scotty and Spock have made any headway. Do you think you could find human, uh, I mean, Simon, and make sure he’s not getting into trouble?”
Uhura gave a quick nod. Kirk sent her a grateful smile. He was glad that the end of their romantic relationship didn’t cause an irreparable rift between Uhura and Spock. Despite his assurances to the contrary, Kirk knew that his first officer was lonely at times and Uhura’s friendship was like a lifeline to him when it was difficult for him to have anyone else to fall back on. Kirk wasn’t conceded enough to think that his friendship could be the only thing that Spock could need and was glad that Spock still had Uhura.
The turbolift shifted smoothly to a stop and Kirk waved to Uhura before striding purposefully down the corridor to the transporter room. He walked into a scene similar to that which he had seen hours before, only now there was even less of a solid shape to the console. It was mostly a jumble of metal plates, motherboards, and fizzling wires. Scotty was fully under the bulk of it, only his legs visible as Spock held a section of metal up to allow Scotty access. He held it aloft with one hand, though even from a distance Kirk realized that it was heavier than he could ever hope to touch, even if he got the entire command crew to help him. Heavier than even the regular Spock would be able to heft. A handful of engineers scampered around nearby.
The Vulcan turned his head slightly at Kirk’s approach and those cold eyes caught Kirk’s gaze.
“How’s it going in here?” Kirk said cheerfully even as ice slid into his gut. “Any ideas?”
When it came, Scotty’s voice was muffled. “Ach, Captain, is that you?” he asked. His legs kicked and shimmied and then his face finally appeared, flush and sweaty. “The good news is that it's not the buffer, the materializer, the dematerializer, or the reverse circuit relays. The bad news is that I’m not a bleeding whit closer to knowing what it actually is.”
“Is there anything in the planet’s atmosphere that might have gotten stuck in the pad as Spock was beamed up?” Kirk questioned.
“Negative, Captain,” the Vulcan responded coolly. “We already checked the decontamination chamber and nothing was detected in transit.”
As Scotty got to his feet, Spock gently set the huge metal plate he’d been holding down. Both of them had rolled up their sleeves, a common engineer tactic that Kirk had seen many times, but the way the muscles rolled through Spock’s bare arm was new. As was the way the veins in his hands stood out, darker with his green blood than they usually were. Kirk swallowed.
Turning fully to Spock, and forgetting for a moment that he was technically off duty, he asked, “did you happen to send a shuttle for the landing party?”
Spock raised an eyebrow but nothing bled through his expression. “I am not on duty,” he said. He paused. “But I did. They are on their way back to the ship now.”
Affection rose up in Kirk’s chest. Even split in two, there was still a part of Spock that knew his thoughts before Kirk could even vocalize them. Even as a full-blooded Vulcan, Spock was concerned enough for his fellow crewmembers that he made sure they would not be left in any potential danger.
Before he could think of a response, the communication plaque on the wall beeped and Uhura’s voice came through asking for Kirk. He strode to the screen and answered the call.
“Jim,” Uhura said. And it was never a good thing when she used his first name. “You might want to come down to rec room 4.” There was raucous laughter and yelling in the background and Uhura was practically shouting into the communicator.
“What’s going on down there?” Kirk replied. There was more laughter filtered through the call and something that sounded suspiciously like “go, white boy, go!”
“Just...” Uhura trailed off. “You know how you asked me to make sure Simon wasn’t getting into trouble? Well, he’s getting into trouble.”
Kirk felt rather than saw Spock stiffen somewhere behind him with a decidedly unVulcan long-suffering sigh.
“Alright, Uhura.” Kirk found himself sighing as well. “I’ll be there in a minute.” He broke the connection and looked at Spock again. He inclined his head toward Kirk and his hands clenched into fists at his side. “Come with me, Spock, would you?”
Spock looked like he would have very much liked to protest and his fists became even more tightly wound. But he wordlessly stepped beside Kirk and flanked him toward the turbolift.
“Don’t forget to take a break, Scotty!” Kirk shot out, waving as they stepped out of the room. “But keep me posted on how it’s going!”
“Aye,” Scotty agreed before the door closed.
The walk to the lift was silent and while Kirk was used to companiable silences wherever Spock was concerned, he quickly found this particular one more awkward than companiable. He’d never been this close to a full-blooded Vulcan before and while he was definitely a lot like Spock, there was also a difference to him, a different taste to his energy, that put Kirk subtly on edge.
It reminded him of when he’d first met Spock. How animosity had flashed between them first at the academic tribunal over his cheating and then later his own personal baiting of Spock after the destruction of his home planet. But even that barely disguised hatred had been better than the blank wall he was getting from the man beside him now. There was something going on underneath the mask but Kirk just couldn’t reach it and he found himself frustrated by that fact. Even when the usual Spock closed himself off, Kirk at least had an idea of what was going on underneath it.
If this was how all Vulcans were, no wonder Spock didn’t like to talk about his father.
When they got into the turbolift, Kirk gave a tentative smile toward Spock. “How are you feeling?” he asked. “I can’t imagine that being split in two feels normal.”
“I am adequate,” Spock replied. “I find myself unburdened. My thoughts are clear and focused. This alone is an abnormal ‘feeling’ but I have no emotional reaction to this, if that is what you are asking.”
“Well, that’s abnormal in itself, isn’t it?” Kirk pressed. “You usually have emotional reactions; you just control them.”
Something in Spock’s expression furrowed but it smoothed almost immediately and then they were walking together out of the lift and toward the rec room. Spock sank back into silence and Kirk didn’t push him for more, the small hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as Spock loped like a predator beside him, the gait slightly off from what Kirk was used to.
As they approached the rec room, noise spilled out into the hallway, levels above what was typical on a normal starship evening. There was more of that loud laughter and Kirk recognized Sulu’s chuckling amongst the sound, as it followed a snort that could only have belonged to Chekov. This all preceded a deep, baritone giggling that Kirk couldn’t place just as he and Spock walked into the room.
Someone had piped music through the sound system, so the room was a solid wall of noise. It was also full to bursting with off-duty crewmen. By the look on their faces and the conversations that could just be barely made out over the music, synthehol, and possibly even private stores of the real stuff, had been flowing and probably had been for a while.
Kirk’s gaze flickered over the room and quickly spotted what was certainly the center of the party. There was a circle of weaving bodies jumping up and down, hollering with delight. Kirk found Chekov’s curls in the crowd and Sulu not too far away from him. He made his way toward them, Spock stiffly marching on his heels.
“Keptin!” Chekov greeted when Kirk reached him. A handful of drunk ensigns around him whipped around at the sound and seeing Kirk, elbowed each other until they all stood in a drunkenly listing version of parade rest. “Uh. How’s it going?” Chekov at least had the decency to look sheepish.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Kirk asked, feeling like he had asked some version of this question more times in one day than he had in months. Spock suddenly went even more rigid next to him and Kirk followed his gaze to the center of the crush of people they had found themselves in.
It wasn’t hard to see the source of Spock’s quietly unemotional anguish. Simon stood, naked to the waist, bare chest gleaming with sweat, with a lime clutched between his lips. Crewmembers would step up to him, bring their mouths to his and suck the lime before twisting around to take a shot. More than a few sloshed more of their drink down Simon’s chest than what got into their mouth.
One daring lieutenant took the lime out of Simon’s mouth with nimble fingers, pressed a chaste kiss against his lips, and then poured the bottle in his hand directly into Simon’s open mouth. This action earned a lot of hollers from the crowd still crushing in around them. And a seductive smirk wiggled across Simon’s face as he graced the room with more of that baritone giggling that Kirk had been unable to place before.
Something dark moved in Kirk’s guts as Simon continued to let the lieutenant fill him with alcohol and then bent to lick at Simon’s jawline as the liquid dripped down over it. But it was Spock who made a move first.
He lunged into the circle and physically pried Simon away as his mouth opened wide in surprise. “You will cease this immediately,” Kirk heard Spock hiss and the sound was so dangerous, he felt his own chest tighten with unbidden fear.
Simon glared back at Spock defiantly as a hush fell over the crowd. “Or what?” he baited. His face was flushed pink and he was unsteady on his feet and very obviously quite drunk. His eyes caught Kirk’s over Spock’s shoulder and a numb smile spread across his face. “Jim!” he crooned. “Is this buzzkill with you?”
“He sure is, Simon. And I think it might be a good idea to listen to him,” Kirk answered. He spotted Uhura and she smiled at him encouragingly. “I think you’ve drunk enough, don’t you?”
Now here was something Kirk had never expected: that he would be the one lecturing Spock about how inebriated he was. There had been several shore leaves where the roles had been reversed and he never thought it would go the other way. Yet here they were, Kirk feeling more out of his element than he had since assuming command, Simon looking at him with a sloppy, unfocused grin, leaning dangerously to one side.
“Whatever you say, Jimmy,” Simon giggled. “If you say jump, I’ll always ask ‘how high?’. You know that. So how high do you want me, sir?” The last word was little more than a purr and despite himself, heat curled inside Kirk.
“I think,” Kirk answered, swallowing dryly, “that Spock and I should help you back to your quarters and you should maybe take a second to sober up.” He nodded at Spock and the Vulcan shouldered the heavy weight of Simon against him as Kirk hoisted Simon’s other arm over his own shoulders. Chekov, Sulu, and Uhura opened a way for them and the three of them left the stifling heat and noise of the room.
Once clear of the party, Simon slumped even more heavily against Kirk and his head lolled forward against his bare chest. Spock gave another one of those sighs that Kirk was beginning to suspect betrayed disgust.
“I can’t believe all it took for you to hold me is just to get split in two,” Simon slurred, patting Kirk numbly. “I could have stopped getting hurt on away missions ages ago if I’d known this.”
“Stop talking,” Spock growled. “You are an embarrassment.”
Simon’s head shot up so he could glare icily at the Vulcan as they reached the turbolift and headed toward Deck Five. “To whom?” he growled. “Surely not to me. And if you’re embarrassed by me, well, who the fuck cares? Not as if you have feelings or anything, right?”
“Guys,” Kirk cut in. Something like a headache was threatening to form behind his temples. “Knock it off, alright?”
When the lift stopped, he helped Spock shuffle Simon to their quarters but once they arrived, Simon suddenly planted his feet and slipped out of Kirk’s grip. He used Spock as little more than a railing to lean against and blearily gazed at Kirk.
“Wait, wait,” he said. “You can’t make us share the same quarters, Jim. It’s inhumane.”
“I find myself likewise uninterested in cohabitating with him,” Spock added. He looked very much like he was fighting the urge to let Simon fall into a crumpled heap on the deck floor.
“See?” Simon demanded, looking at Kirk but pointing a wavering finger at Spock. “He’s insufferable. Pretentious as all shit. You can’t make me live with that.” He paused, seeming to need a steady effort to collect his thoughts into a coherent argument. “Besides, he barely sleeps. I should get the quarters and you can just put him in a cleaning closet somewhere since all he does is fucking meditate.”
“Our quarters are set to Vulcan standard,” Spock argued colorlessly. “You would be uncomfortable in such a space. Logically, therefore, I should receive our quarters and you should sleep elsewhere.”
Simon began chuckling. “Oh, really? You wanna play it like that, Spock?” he laughed. “Ok, ok. That is just so logical, I truly can not argue with it. Maybe you should get our quarters and, since I’m a human and so is he, I’ll bunk with Jim here. We’ll be oh so comfortable together. Without you getting in the way. Maybe so comfortable we fall asleep all wrapped up together. If we get any sleep at all, that is.”
If such a thing was even possible, Spock’s eyes hardened even more.
“Listen,” Kirk cut in before Spock could let loose with whatever biting retort he had planned. “I’m not going to be put in the middle here. You guys are going to have to learn to live together. You’ve shared the same body for years; I think you can share the same rooms for one night.” He was definitely starting to get a headache. “And Simon, maybe Bones’ll have pity on you and get you a hypo to sober you up.” Kirk spun on his heel and walked purposefully down a door to his own quarters. He waved at the two Spocks dismissively and then disappeared inside.
Once there, he leaned against the closed door and let out a low breath. It seemed like all Spock and Simon did was fight. And there was something almost petty about the way they scratched at each other, a fight that was more biting and spitting than something noble. It was cutting and personal, which Kirk supposed it would have to be if you were fighting with someone who knew all of your secrets and the very shape of your thoughts.
He ran his hands through his hair and pushed himself off the wall. He didn’t like the way that Scotty had appeared to be at a loss as to what could have caused such a division of the self, and because of that would not have a way to put things back together as they had been. He didn’t like how Simon and Spock had used him as cudgel, a weapon to wield against the other. He didn’t like the way that that lieutenant had been all over Simon.
Mostly, he didn’t like the way Spock frightened him ever so slightly and the way Simon seemed to know something about him that he hadn’t quite processed himself.
He didn’t like how both of these things made a shiver of something akin to arousal spread blood heat across his skin.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t always thought Spock was hot. Anyone with eyes would know that he was. Even Bones knew it, as Kirk was able to coax out of him only after a night of very, very, very heavy drinking of their own. But part of why he was so hot was, ultimately, that he was forbidden. He was fun to fantasize about because reality would never align in such a way that could bring them together like that.
So what if sometimes their knees brushed under the chess table? So what if Spock only ever twitched his lips into that version of a smile he had with Kirk? So what if there was that one time when they’d taken a shore leave and had gone to fancy restaurants and museums alone together and shared a hotel room and maybe even sat close enough on the couch that their thighs brushed?
It wasn’t like any of it meant anything. At least, not to Spock. It meant everything to Kirk, but he could keep that to himself just as easily as he held all of his secrets.
Even with his thoughts still unable to quiet themselves, Kirk moved forward into his normal evening routine. He was keenly aware of the bulkhead he shared with Spock, the bathroom between them, and the sounds he could hear filtering in through that other room.
Usually, Spock was the best neighbor to have. Quiet and courteous. The only sounds that Kirk had heard coming from Spock’s rooms before this night had occasionally been the rumble of Spock’s voice, though the words were undistinguishable, as he recorded his logs, dictated messages to his father or his alternate universe self, or spoke with Uhura. Every once in a while, there was the mournful sound of the Vulcan lyre, but Spock always played it so quietly and with such melancholia that Kirk had to strain to hear it over the rumble of the warp core.
But as Kirk sat down with his own dinner fresh from the replicator, he overheard voices raised in what was definitely anger. First there was a deep grumble that Kirk couldn’t quite make out and then Simon’s voice, loud and pissed enough to be heard clearly, “it came from the replicator! It was never alive! It’s vegan! You’re just being pedantic because you’re an asshole!”
When Kirk settled at his desk to finish the day’s reports, he heard music begin to pound, flowing from the other room. Something quick and darting like Earth rock. It went on for a while before cutting off abruptly and he heard Simon again, this time laughing something like, “oh does that hurt your sensitive Vulcan hearing?”
When Kirk lounged on his couch with a book he’d been slowly picking his way through, it was the sound of voices again that he heard. First there was Spock saying something but Kirk could only make out a mention of Uhura. Then there was Simon once more, loud and taunting.
“Me?” he was saying. “What happened with Nyota is my fault? Like I’m the only gay one? And you’re slut shaming me too? I might not be a Vulcan anymore, but I sure remember how to speak the fucking language so I know exactly what you just called me. Real rich coming from the bitch who wants to mind meld with every cute boy from here to the Gamma Quadrant.”
It wasn’t until Kirk had changed into the boxers he wore to bed, and had just been slipping off into sleep, that he heard the rumble of harshly spoken words, that had been steady for some time now, end suddenly with the sound of glass shattering. Then came the thundering sound of something heavy slamming into the bulkhead and Kirk was up and sprinting through that shared bathroom before he had time to think.
Spock’s quarters opened with a hiss and the room Kirk rushed into was in total disarray. Furniture had been toppled, a vase had shattered, and there was blood, both green and red, smeared on the wall. Spock and Simon were a writhing mass on the floor, grappling with each other like a couple of feral animals.
Spock heard Kirk’s entrance before Simon did, and the Vulcan pulled off just enough to look at him. Simon took advantage of the distraction and landed a devastating punch to Spock’s jaw. His head whipped back with the force of it, his lip splitting in a spray of emerald blood and as Kirk watched, that impassive Vulcan face contorted violently into a mask of rage.
Quicker than lightning, his hand reached out and caught Simon around the throat. He climbed off of Simon utterly and lifted him up with his one hand around Simon’s jaw. Spock carried him like that, seemingly in total control of himself, with cool measured steps, but danger was rolling off of him in waves. He slammed Simon’s head against the wall, his face blank even as Simon wriggled and fought him vainly. He held him there, shifting his grip until it was around Simon’s throat and his fingers began to squeeze.
“Stop!” Kirk yelled, getting over his shock at the mess he’d walked into and rushing to beat his fists against the unmovable wall of Spock’s back. “Spock, you have to stop!”
Simon sputtered and kicked his legs uselessly as his hands scrabbled weakly at Spock’s wrist. Spock’s grip loosened only minutely.
“No,” he said, low and dark. “No, Jim. I will not stop.” His voice was steady and emotionless as Simon dangled, dying in his grip. “I am going to kill him. Once and for all. I am finally going to kill him.”
“Stop,” Kirk said again. There was only a trickle of shame in him at the beseeching tone to his voice and the way it seemed to break midway through the word. He knew he was no match for Vulcan muscle. He couldn’t pry those fingers off if he put his entire strength into it. And there wasn’t time to summon a security team to help him. There was just him, weak man that he was, just him and a stone Vulcan and the bulging eyes of a dying man, wild and unseeing.
His heart pounding in his ears the only sound, Kirk stepped forward, desperate and beyond shame.
“Spock,” he whispered. “You can’t do this.” He beat at Spock’s back a few more times before his hands dropped. “I love him.” He touched Spock lightly on the elbow, a gentle touch that somehow seemed more violent than anything he had done before. Spock suddenly let Simon go, so that he slumped into a crumpled tangle of limbs on the floor, coughing painfully and clutching at his throat. Slowly, trancelike, Spock lowered both of his arms to his side and stepped away from the wall. He faced away from Kirk and was silent as a statue.
Kirk crouched beside Simon and rubbed his back. Sometime after he’d left them, both Spock and Simon had changed into the black shape of an off-duty uniform, and the fabric of it scratched against Kirk’s palm. He was glad that the Spock under his hand happened to be the human one and could not feel the swirling storm of his incoherent thoughts.
He sank down to the floor, leaned against the wall, and pulled Simon into his lap. Kirk stared defiantly up at Spock, who would not meet his gaze.
“Spock,” he said, but it was closer to a hesitant question than Kirk had wanted it to be. “I... I love him.” He paused. “And I love you. I love you both. I can’t let you hurt him. Just as I can’t let him hurt you. I love you both. I want you both.”
The confession felt as full of weight as if all of destiny was built up behind it. Kirk’s throat was raw and dry after its passage. The truth of it wielded like a weapon through his body, painfully lacerating him on its way out.
He loved Spock. He had loved Spock for quite some time. Loved those subtly sly looks that he sometimes graced Kirk with. Loved his kindness. His playfulness. His cleverness. And that curiosity? Kirk could write sonnets about that childlike awe of the unknown alone. He loved the way Spock folded his hands together when he knew Kirk had just gotten the upper hand in a chess game but Spock was too stubborn to admit it. He loved the way that every so often, Spock would vary the meal he picked from the replicator and meticulously devour an airy Terran dessert, sharing his delight in the taste with no one but himself.
He loved Spock in a million different ways and as he looked at the pitiful human still sputtering in his lap and the Vulcan standing proud and rudderless nearby, the love he felt for both of them emptied him out until there was room for nothing in him but the love itself.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I’ve said it now. Let the cards fall where they may.” The back of his head hit the wall as he leaned back with a groan and closed his eyes. He began to laugh, a senseless sound that filled the sudden silence of the room. “I love you, Spock. You stupid, stubborn, brilliant, beautiful man. I love every little human part of you. I love every little Vulcan part of you. I love it all. I want it all.”
Tentative fingers found Kirk’s cheek and wiped away the wet pearl of a tear that had spilled there from the cage of Kirk’s lids. Kirk opened his eyes and Simon was gazing at him like he was the only thing worth looking at in the entire cosmos, as his hand moved from Kirk’s cheek, to cup his chin and bring him into a scalding kiss.
Simon pulled back and then it was Spock, whose eyes had finally lost that frigid sheen and looked so alike to Simon’s that Kirk couldn’t believe anyone could be convinced that he did not feel, staring at him. It was Spock’s cold lips pressing into Kirk’s. When he pulled back, he spoke against Kirk’s mouth a near silent apology.
“I am sorry,” he whispered. “My hatred is stronger than my logic.” His lips caught Kirk’s again. His cool, alien tongue sought entrance and Kirk granted it, letting him deepen the kiss until Kirk felt lightheaded with the power of it. As Spock plumbed his mouth, Simon’s warm hand was back on his face. As more tears spilled from under Kirk’s closed lids, Simon caught them.
Spock pulled back again and straightened into the crouch he had placed himself into. “If you love the human side of me,” he continued as though there had been no pause in his speech. “Then there must be something worthy of it in him. Worthy of the regard of a mind as dynamic as yours.”
“He’s so horny for your mind, you have no idea,” Simon said, smirking as he forced the gravity of the room to lighten. He shifted, still in Kirk’s lap, but straddling him now, with his thighs on either side of Kirk’s hips. Red welts had risen in a defined handprint around his neck but he seemed so brazen as if he hadn’t been being choked to death mere moments before. “He wants it so bad it freaks him out sometimes.”
Simon bent until his face rested against Kirk’s collar bone. He held himself there for long moments, seemingly content to just breathe him in. Kirk felt like he had stepped sideways directly into a dream. Nothing seemed solid. Even his breath didn’t seem to belong fully to him. Everything around him was Spock. It was hard to find himself in it.
“I don’t know what this is,” Kirk admitted breathlessly. He leaned into Spock’s fingers when he suddenly reached to run them slowly over the planes of Kirk’s face. Simon’s mouth opened against the warmth of his throat, kissing the skin there wetly. He remembered McCoy’s words about feeling ganged up on by both of the Spocks.
“You’re both... I mean...” Kirk trailed off, unable to think when he felt a Vulcan mind idly rutting against his own as Spock caressed over his meldpoints. Simon ground his ass down into Kirk’s crotch and the rest of his words came out on a moan. “This is the weirdest thing that’s happened to me.”
“But you like it,” Spock said. His finger caught on Kirk’s bottom lip, so Kirk darted his tongue out to wrap around it. Spock’s breath caught in his throat. “I can taste your thoughts. I know your feelings. I see your desires.”
“Can you?” Kirk said, panting. Simon had begun to stroke him over his pants as he kissed at his jaw. It made it hard to string words together.
“Shall I prove it to you?” Spock asked, challenge clear in the newfound set of his shoulders. He kneeled beside Kirk and gently pulled Simon away from him. Simon looked momentarily surprised when Spock’s mouth caught his own but he quickly melted into the touch, kissing back before too long. Spock deepened the kiss, making sure that Kirk could hear the wet slide of tongues touching.
“Jesus Christ,” Kirk moaned. “Well, that’s just not fair. You shouldn’t be allowed to use your Vulcan voodoo to torture me.”
Spock and Simon pulled apart, a thin rope of saliva connecting them for a moment before it broke. “Torture?” Spock asked as he tugged at Simon’s shirt, slowly creeping it up and over the human’s head. “Doesn’t torture usually involve pain?”
“I don’t know, Spock,” Simon said, smirking as Spock tossed his shirt across the room. He lunged forward to kiss Spock again, his hand going around the back of Spock’s skull to tug him even closer. As he did so, he made sure to shimmy his ass against Kirk again, pressing down into his erection. Simon broke their kiss. “That boner he’s got feels pretty painful to me.”
Kirk groaned wordlessly and his head hit the wall again. Arousal was a damp heat plummeting through him and making him forget every argument he could make against going forward with this. He knew all three of them were still riding the high of the aggressive display that Kirk had walked into. That there was something violent in this coupling.
This was a fight for dominance. And Kirk knew neither should be allowed to win. He himself had to have the power or something would break. Something irreparable.
Kirk pushed Simon off of him with a shove that sent both Simon and Spock sprawling gracelessly, clutching at each other to stay upright. Before they could recover from the shock, Kirk rose to his feet and started to pull off his boxers.
“Strip each other,” Kirk demanded in his best captain’s voice. The authority of it made both of the other men shoot to their feet and two pairs of brown eyes became black with the savage dilation of their pupils. “And be good boys about it.”
Spock immediately reached for Simon’s waistband and unceremoniously ripped the pants off of him, revealing black briefs tented with a very human erection, and strong thighs. Both of them had been barefoot since before Kirk had arrived so when Spock divested Simon of the briefs as well, he was completely naked. His erection bobbed, pink with human blood, full and stiff before pendulous human balls. Spock stroked it until Simon made a choked sound.
Biting his lip to keep from letting out a moan of his own, Kirk took his own cock in hand and mirrored the motions Spock had been making.
He watched as Spock let go of Simon and allowed Simon to reach toward him and pull his own shirt up and off him. Simon was much less efficient at his task than Spock had been with his. He lingered over Spock’s nipples, scraping his nails over Spock’s bare chest. When he finally got Spock’s pants off, he spent time caressing his thighs and then lifted himself up to kiss Spock’s lips again, glancing over at the reaction it caused in Kirk, before he finally pulled Spock’s own briefs down.
Vulcans weren’t so keen about putting diagrams of their genitals in any kind of textbook that Kirk had ever had access to, so it was his first glimpse at what they were packing. Spock had something like a cock, though the shape of it was different with some extra ridges, and it emerged from a type of sheath, glistening with moisture. In the place where Kirk was expecting balls, instead the sheath flared out into an opening that was leaking fluid in warm rivulets down Spock’s inner thigh.
Simon grinned at Kirk’s inspection before he kneeled in front of Spock. He lapped up a smear of the fluid from where it had ended near Spock’s knee up toward where it started, causing the Vulcan to shudder when Simon’s tongue reached its destination.
Kirk crested on a wave of pleasure as he touched himself and watched. He could feel his chest heaving as though there was not air enough in the room. He was suffocating on need that had become so severe he couldn’t seem to control the desires coursing through him.
He stepped forward and pulled Simon up until he could crush his lips to his. The kiss was full of spit and teeth and lacked any kind of control. He searched for Spock’s taste and caught it on Simon’s tongue, moaning into Simon when he found it and clutched at Simon’s ass, bringing their cock’s together, sliding in each other’s pre-cum.
“Vulcans like to be in control, don’t they?” Kirk asked, speaking to Simon in a stage whisper when they separated for a breath. Simon nodded breathlessly. “I don’t think we should let him be. But he’s so much stronger than us...” He trailed off before grinning. “If we work together, maybe we might just stand a chance though.”
“We just might,” Simon agreed, smiling wickedly. “Shall I hold him down for you?”
The image those words conjured made Kirk gasp and he shoved Simon toward the bed, beckoning for Spock to follow as well. The Vulcan did so silently.
“No, no,” Kirk replied to Simon. “I want to share him.”
That damned eyebrow rose on both Spock’s and Simon’s faces at so close to the same moment that it was uncanny to watch. Kirk chuckled to himself and smacked Simon’s ass with a loud crack that reverberated through the room. Simon moaned as his cock visibly jumped.
“Kneel on the bed,” Kirk said to him, that authority back in his voice again. When he did so, Kirk turned to Spock. “And you’re hands and knees, mister.”
Not knowing how it was that he knew since Spock didn’t let anything show, Kirk realized that as Spock moved stiffly, there was nervousness in his motions. He arrayed himself on the bed as Kirk had directed him, exposing his ass for Kirk’s inspection, and his breath was ever so slightly quicker than it had been before.
Kirk’s palm cracked across Spock’s ass with a sound that mirrored what he had done to Simon and Spock whimpered as his hands clutched at his bedsheets. Kirk moved away from him and stalked around the bed until he was near to Simon again and pushed him forward. Simon kneeled in front of Spock’s face now and with endlessly patient movements, Kirk directed Simon until his cock brushed Spock’s lips.
Obligingly, Spock opened them and Kirk manhandled Simon’s dick into the waiting space. Simon made that choked noise again and it was so loud and desperate it went straight through Kirk so that he practically scampered back across the bed. With scientific precision, Spock set to work sucking Simon off and Kirk slid behind him, caressing up the back of Spock’s legs. He kneaded the swell of his ass as soon as he reached it, pulling it apart and then back together, teasing himself with the glimpse of Spock’s pucker and lower still, that hole that was glistening with his desire.
Kirk ran his finger over it and heard Spock moan around Simon. Simon bucked his hips in response, making Spock gag daintily before that Vulcan ingenuity allowed him to control his reflexes. Once he had it under wraps, Simon clutched at the sides of Spock’s head, and began to fuck his face in earnest.
The sight made Kirk unable to wait any longer and brought the head of his cock, swollen with the pounding blood of his addicting desire, to that slick opening. He pushed in slowly, just the head at first, teasing them both as he withdrew before penetrating Spock completely. He looked and Spock had begun to drool around Simon, spit dribbling over his chin and down onto Simon’s balls.
“Yes,” Kirk hissed and then plunged forward until he bottomed out into Spock and Spock’s muscles fluttered around him. “He takes dick so good doesn’t he, Simon?”
“Oh yea,” Simon groaned in response. “We both do.”
“Good,” Kirk said on a moan. He began to thrust into Spock in earnest and the work Spock’s mouth was doing on Simon became more sloppy, all pretense of finesse abandoned. Kirk leaned over his back until his mouth was close to one pointed ear. “I want to see you make Simon cum. You hate him so much and he’s going to feed you his load.” Spock whimpered. “And then I’m gonna fill you with my cum and only after all that will we touch your cock.”
“I think you’re teaching Spock about torture, Jim,” Simon said but his words dissolved into a grunt when Spock redoubled his efforts on his cock, his arms trembling to hold himself up as he was impaled between the two humans.
Spock began to gag again, desperate to take Simon as far back into his throat as he could, but he didn’t stop sucking until Simon began to jerk his hips shakily. His fingers tugged at Spock’s straight bangs with enough force to be painful.
“Shit,” Simon grunted. “I’m gonna--”
He quickly pulled out and lathered his own cock with Spock’s spit as it still clung to it. Spock opened his mouth and held his tongue under the head of Simon’s cock, his eyes heavy-lidded and unfocused. Hungry. Kirk slowed his own punishing pace to watch as Simon’s cock pulsed and sprayed Spock’s lips and tongue with the thick ropes of his cum, mixing with the drool as it dripped over Spock’s chin.
Simon fired off a litany of Vulcan curses as he came and sat back breathless and panting only after every drop of that human seed had landed somewhere on damp Vulcan skin. He sank down onto the bed and shoved at Spock’s shoulders so he’d thrust back onto Kirk’s dick.
With his mouth now free, Spock made sounds that Kirk had never heard a Vulcan make before. Keening whimpers and whines and pathetic gasps. Even once, a drawn out, “fuuuuuuck.” He’d probably have some excuse ready about how logical it was to be so vocal but Kirk didn’t care what it could be.
He pistoned into him, feeling more of Spock’s liquid surge around him, soaking his cock as Spock squeezed him in an overheated vice grip. Orgasm settled low in Kirk’s balls, growing and spreading up his spine and over his skull. He was so close. Oh, so close that it was agonizing.
“Simon,” Kirk groaned, ragged as gravel. “Touch me while I cum in him.”
Simon shifted over the mattress before he draped himself over Kirk’s sweaty back. He clutched at the hair on the back of Kirk’s head and tugged him up so he could capture his mouth in a punishing kiss that made Kirk twist his neck in a way that was nearly painful.
As Simon’s tongue plumbed Kirk’s mouth, he thrust forward one last time into Spock and felt his climax explode over him, his body going taut. He made a sound that was aching, loud, and uncontrollable. Simon swallowed it while Spock mewled weakly and clutched even harder at the sheets as Kirk filled him.
Shivering, Kirk waited until every shock levelled off into manageable bliss and then let himself fall out of Spock’s body. He manhandled Spock off of his hands and knees and onto his back. With that soundless understanding Kirk had come to expect from Spock, Simon sat beside Kirk and they both crawled down Spock’s waist. They kissed each other once or twice over Spock’s dick, and then Kirk stopped teasing and took the twitching member into his mouth. Simon moved lower and started to lap at Kirk’s cum as it dripped thickly out of Spock’s opening and speared the Vulcan with his tongue.
Spock’s eyes were wide as he looked down at them. “I’m not...” he whined. “I can’t...” His hand went to Kirk’s temple and the mind rutting from earlier became a plunge as the Vulcan mind entered him. Their thoughts swirled together becoming wild and frenzied in the shape of Spock’s orgasm that rose in him. It obliterated them both as Spock’s hips arched off the bed and he shot his load down Kirk’s throat. His mind spasmed rhythmically around Kirk’s.
Kirk kept sucking him and only dropped his cock when it began to turn flaccid in his mouth and Spock’s whimpers became more pained than anything else. Kirk kissed Simon once more before he sank boneless into the warm puddle they had made of Spock’s bed. Simon immediately cuddled up into his side and while he took a bit of coaxing, Spock did the same on the other side.
Kirk hummed happily.
“That was so hot,” he said, stroking a hand through Simon’s sweaty curls. “And do you see how much better it is when you work together instead of against each other?”
“I am beginning to see the appeal,” Spock replied.
At the same time, Simon rolled his eyes and said, “can we just vibe in the afterglow without you making it a learning opportunity? Sir,” he added hastily but it was more bratty than apologetic.
Kirk swatted at him.
The bosun whistle of an incoming communication interrupted them as it chirped out of the computer. Spock was the closest so he rolled toward it and answered with audio only. Scotty’s triumphant voice filled the room.
“Sorry for calling so late, Commander!” he said. “But we found the problem! A short in the stabilizer that ricocheted into the buffer, latching onto two sides of your DNA and pulling you apart like taffy! I shudder to think what would have happened to you if you weren’t a hybrid. I think that’s the only thing that saved your life, sir.”
Simon’s head flopped back against the pillows. “Ok, oh Great Cosmic Mind,” he groaned, eyes toward heaven, “you don’t have to beat us over the head with this one. We learned our lesson.”
Ignoring him, Spock addressed Scotty, “then it shall be a simple matter to put us back together, yes?”
“Assuming that’s what you want,” Kirk said quietly. “And I hope it is.”
Simon and Spock stared at each other as Scotty, not having heard Kirk, continued happily, “yes! In fact, if you would both just come down to the transporter, I’ll have you patched up before you can say ‘live long and prosper’!”
“Alright,” Spock said curtly and ended the call. He turned back to the bed where Kirk had been slowly drawing circles over Simon’s chest. “I...” he began and seemed to lose his nerve. He swallowed noisily and some ice dislodged in his gaze. “I never really wanted to kill you, Simon. You just make me so angry that I can’t control myself. And a Vulcan without control is-”
“-is no Vulcan at all,” Simon finished. “It is because of me that you are not a Vulcan. And that just really pisses you off. But how much of that rage is yours and how much is dad’s?” Simon pushed away from Kirk and got to his feet. “Haven’t you ever thought that the reason I’m so loud and immature to you is because you never express me? You choke me down and beat me into submission. You’ve never given me the chance to grow up. Sarek made us have to choose one or the other and we let him. Vulcan made us choose one or the other because they couldn’t handle the chaos of something not neatly labelled. And we let them.” Simon began to pull clothes out of the dresser and handed some to Spock while he climbed into others himself. “But guess what? Vulcan is fucking gone. Dead. And yet we’re still alive, you and I. The son of Sarek and the daughter of Amanda. We’re alive.”
“We’re alive,” Spock agreed. He looked over at Kirk. “And we are loved.”
“Yea,” Simon answered, smiling sweetly. “We’re loved. Did you see them all in the rec room? Did you see how they loved having fun with me? Did you see how Nyota was concerned about us? Did you notice how Scotty didn’t take a break? It’s the middle of the night and he was puttering around in that transporter this whole time. They love us. They all do. Both of us.”
Silence fell as they both finished dressing, eyeing each other almost shyly. Kirk found his own discarded boxers and pulled them on.
Despite not wanting to leave the heat of Spock’s quarters, he trudged back into his own rooms. Finding a clean uniform, he pulled it on. Spock and Simon followed him through the bathroom and waited patiently for him to dress. Once he did, he straightened Simon’s shirt and then smoothed out Spock’s hair as they both fussed over him until all three of them looked at least somewhat presentable.
The trip back to the transporter was without words, though Kirk kept stealing quick human kisses with Simon and twisting finger kisses with Spock. Scotty stood proudly beaming at their arrival, bags just starting to appear under his eyes.
“I called Dr. McCoy as well,” Scotty said as they approached him. “I know he’ll want to give ye a scan once you’ve been through the ringer again.”
As if summoned, Bones appeared in the room, looking groggy and still half-asleep. There were few things that got the doctor willingly out of bed early, they all knew. He usually had to be bribed. Kirk and the Spocks seemed to realize this at the same time as they all looked at each other affectionately.
“Yea, even Bones,” Kirk said with a chuckle, looking first at Simon and then Spock. “He loves you too.”
“What the devil are you on about now?” McCoy groused. He shook his head and yawned. “Can we just hurry this along so I can go the hell back to bed?”
“Certainly, Doctor,” Kirk said teasingly. He beckoned both Simon and Spock onto the transporter pad. He hugged them both, first Simon who willingly wrapped himself around Kirk, and then Spock who stiffened before patting Kirk’s back affectionately.
“Did I miss something?” he heard Bones whisper to Scotty.
“Beats me,” Scotty whispered back.
Kirk smiled to himself as he stepped back off of the pad and joined Scotty and Bones at the console. Simon walked over to Spock and pulled him into his chest. They held each other with more affection than Kirk had expected to see, alone as they were with no one but the other. Scotty worked the controls and with a shimmer, both of the Spocks disappeared. There was nothing for a breathless moment and then energy coalesced once again.
When it stabilized, Spock stood. Spock alone. Spock completely whole. Spock with his soft human eyes and his upswept Vulcan eyebrows. His lip twitched as he looked first at Kirk and then Scotty and finally Bones as he strode toward him with his medical tricorder held aloft and whirring.
“Well,” McCoy said, looking at the tricorder’s display. “You’re throwing my scanner into all sorts of disarray so I think it’s safe to say that you’re back to normal. Welcome back, Spock.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Spock said. “And thank you for giving Simon that hypo. I was not looking forward to my first ever hangover.”
McCoy looked taken aback but recovered quickly. “Yea, ok, whatever,” he grumbled. “If that’s all, I’m going back to bed.”
“I think that sounds like a good idea for all of us,” Kirk said. “Good work, gentlemen. Another job well down by the best crew in the ‘Fleet.”
“Whatever,” McCoy grumbled again. He waved a lazy hand over his shoulder as he gathered Scotty and they slouched out of the room. Spock fell into step beside Kirk as they both swept into the hallway.
They entered the turbolift together, catching the one after McCoy and Scotty. When the doors hissed closed behind them, Spock brought his hand to caress Kirk’s, drifting up to draw lazy spirals over Kirk’s wrist.
“You remember everything, huh?” Kirk asked.
“I do,” Spock replied.
“Good.”
Kirk beamed and Spock’s eyes seemed to melt into soft brown puddles.
“Seeing as your quarters are currently a disaster,” Kirk went on, “I think it might be best if you spent the night with me tonight, Mr. Spock. What do you say?”
“That sounds agreeable,” Spock replied colorlessly.
Kirk did not consider himself a superstitious person. He didn’t know what kind of thing was out there that was bigger than him, that was luck and will and destiny all rolled into one. But he knew enough not to forget to send a prayer of gratitude to Whoever it was that was listening. And the next time they ran into an unknown ship, he might just tap the side of the captain’s chair three times before engaging with them.