Chapter Text
“Jim!” Pike hollered from his kitchen as Jim Kirk entered the captain’s quarters. Captain Pike was, of course, wearing an apron. “Come in here! I made a triple chocolate cake. From scratch. Have a piece. Coffee?”
Jim’s mouth watered.
From scratch!
Kirk was not above a baked good, even the synthesized sort. He had a certain appreciation for the taste of real food and a more serious philosophical appreciation for synthesized food. He knew what it was to go without, so anything offered and homemade was especially sacred.
He sat at Pike’s kitchen counter, already relaxing a little.
When the captain had told him to meet him in his quarters after his shift, he had sounded so serious. There had been no mention of cake.
“I will absolutely have a piece of cake,” Jim said. “And a coffee. Thanks, Captain.”
The Captain poured him a mug from a French press and slid it across the counter with a tray full of sweeteners and cream. “Go for it. Sorry if I made ya nervous, inviting you over without explaining. Tense day. Lot of back and forth with the brass, you know how it is.”
“‘Course, sir,” Jim said. “I understand.”
The captain placed a tall cake tin on the counter and uncovered it, revealing a dark chocolate frosted beauty so flawless Jim almost felt bad that Pike would be cutting into it on his account. Pike cut Jim a piece like a thick shard and winked as he slid it over on a plate.
Of course, he also stood there and waited to watch Kirk take a bite.
Kirk chewed, swallowed, and slammed his fist on the counter. “Goddammit. Sorry, but-”
“Haha! No, that’s the kind of reaction I truly enjoy,” Pike said, chuckling.
Thick dark chocolatey goodness. A moist cake and a frosting so rich that Jim couldn’t be a five-year-old about it and eat that part all at once. He had to force himself to savor it. He put his fork down and took a sip of black coffee, which was also much better than he was used to.
“So how was your day, kid?” Pike said. He leaned on the counter, sipping from his own mug.
“Pretty good, sir.” Kirk nodded. “Commander Chin-Reilly has been picking my brain about some Romulan movement around the Neutral Zone and that turned into another whole report today. But frankly, I kinda relish the challenge.”
“Yeah, that’s no accident,” Pike said wryly. “We picked up on your strategic mind, Jim. You got a general’s brain if I ever saw one. Dunno if it’s something you want to hear.”
“As long as we stay out of an actual war, I don’t mind the compliment,” Jim said easily. “Prefer peacetime, thanks.”
“So much the better,” Pike said. “Strategic mind with an eye for peace is the ideal. Watch out for that when you make captain, though. They’ll spread you thin once they figure it out.”
Kirk knew just who “they” were, and he chuckled knowingly. “Yes, sir.”
He returned to his cake, unsure now if Pike wanted to talk about anything in particular or if this was a general catch-up session. Pike seemed like the type to value his relationship to the crew on a personal level, the polar opposite of how the Farragut ran, and really the polar opposite of anything Jim was used to from authority figures. His own father had been fine. No serious complaints. Cordial. Generally good. As distant as a star.
His mother was kinder, but nearly as absent. Teachers and captains and commanders previous to Pike were tough on him because he behaved in a way that welcomed it.
This kind of warmth took some getting used to.
“So, Jim…”
Jim took a larger swallow of coffee in preparation for whatever Pike might say next.
“I do have something I need to talk to you about,” Pike said. He folded his arms on the counter. “It’s a little…sensitive.”
“Sure, Captain.”
“Let’s go with Chris for this particular conversation,” Pike said. “It’s about Spock.”
Jim sat up straighter. “Spock?”
For an alarming moment, Jim thought perhaps that the “sensitive” thing Pike had to talk to him about was his big stupid crush on the science officer. He thought he’d been pretty good at keeping that to himself, outside of some casual flirting. He flirted with everybody, if only for the camouflage.
“Yeah, Spock. Eh…” Pike gestured vaguely at him. “I mean, you two are friendly, right?”
“Sure,” Jim said. “We play chess, we chat a lot. He’s a really interesting guy. I like Mr. Spock.”
He thought his voice went a little high there at the end, but maybe it was his imagination.
“Good. That’s good.” Pike nodded. He seemed unsure as to how to proceed with whatever it was he had to say. “Okay, here’s the thing. Something is wrong. With Spock.”
“Oh? What’s wrong with him?”
Jim had certainly noticed that Spock had not been at his post on the bridge the last few days. Not sick, but sticking to his labs. And Jim had not seen him socializing in the Port Galley in the evenings like he often did in the last week. Jim had missed him and felt foolish for it. But he’d labored to consider this feeling his Enterprise Infatuation, a little something to think fondly of once he returned to the Farragut. He was already messy enough with his love life. He didn’t want to mess things up with his relationship to the Enterprise and its captain…who would eventually be stepping down and who seemed to be grooming him for the chair. Sometimes it was difficult to think that way, however. Because sometimes he felt like he’d known Spock forever and then how to explain that surreal sensation upon first meeting Spock when Jim had inexplicably thought to himself: Hey, there he is! As if he might have been waiting for him his whole life. Jim had finally put that down to his own loneliness.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him.” Pike scratched his chin. “He’s been brooding. Abrasive. Aggressive. Kind of…pissy.”
“Spock?”
“I thought it was stress at first,” Pike said, sighing. “His experiment with human emotion and all. I don’t think so. It’s something else. But he’s not talking.” He looked half apologetic when he said to Jim, “That’s where you come in.”
“Me?” Kirk furrowed his brow and drained his coffee.
“Okay, listen. I just get the sense that whatever this is, it’s personal. Delicate.” Pike grabbed a fork and took a bite of Kirk’s cake, chewing thoughtfully. “It needs the right touch. He needs somebody to open up to. I don’t think he has that right now.”
“But…me, Chris? I mean, I like him, but I don’t know him all that well. Aren’t you two pretty close?”
“Well, yes.” Pike winced. “But… The thing is, I’m like his dad. Some things you just don’t want to talk to your dad about. And most of Spock’s colleagues are, well, they’re all women for the most part. Which is great, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes you need to talk to a guy about certain things, am I right?”
“Dr. M’Benga!” Jim said, as if this might not have occurred to the captain.
“That was my first thought,” Pike said. “He tried. Spock said something about breaking his neck.”
“What?”
“This is what I’m saying,” Pike said grimly.
“So this is serious?” Jim said.
For a minute there, he’d thought it was just some girl trouble…which Jim also didn’t relish talking to Spock about.
“Yeah,” Pike said. “I think so. I know it might be a stretch here, but I’m worried about our boy. If you could just give it a shot, see if he’ll open up to you. I’d really appreciate it, Jim. And maybe it’s just some problem dealing with his emotions and we can fix it.”
Jim nodded absently. “Yeah. Hope so. Well, okay, sure. I’ll really try, Chris.”
It wasn’t as if he had ever considered saying no.
Kirk took his given task seriously, and did not at all think it was going to be easy.
But Pike had told him he had a general’s mind. So Kirk considered the problem strategically.
If he approached Spock directly about this right away, he was sure he would get dismissed, and maybe physically if Spock was throwing threats of violence at M’Benga, of all people.
Kirk decided he would approach from the side, and first via science.
He would go to Spock with a science question. Ease in. Before Spock knew it, they would be talking, even if only about physics or whatever. That way, Jim could take his temperature (emotionally speaking) and go from there.
Jim found his opportunity the next morning on the bridge.
“Number One, what are we looking at for a survey of Filbini?” Pike glanced at his first officer, who glanced over at Spock’s console, currently manned by a young ensign.
“We’re waiting on Mr. Spock’s work-up,” Una said.
“I’ll check up on it for ya!” Jim hopped to his feet from his station next to Una.
Everyone on the bridge stared at him and Ortegas said, “You’re…you’re going to talk to Mr. Spock?”
He cleared his throat. “Yep.”
Pike nodded at him. “Very good. Thanks, Lieutenant.”
“Nice knowin’ ya, Jim,” Ortegas said under her breath.
On his way to the science division, Kirk planned what he would say.
He would ask how the work-up on Filbini was progressing. He assumed it was not yet completed, and that whatever was wrong with Spock was interfering with his work, or at least interfering just enough that Spock was merely competent instead of outstanding. He would ease them into a conversation on the subject of Filbini or planet surveys in general or anything appealing to Spock. Then Jim would gradually expand outward into a conversation about how Spock was doing and, before Spock knew it, he would be opening up to Jim. People liked to open up to Jim. Much more than Jim liked to open up to people, that was for sure.
The lab was quiet, but Jim felt the tension the moment he stepped through the door, scanning the expanse of stark white countertops displaying microscopes carefully organized samples. He spotted Spock immediately, though he was in a far corner, hunched over a computer. That alone was remarkable. He had never seen Spock hunch before. But as Jim walked in, Spock raised his head and turned it in Jim’s direction, his expression strained, before looking back down at his computer again.
“Jim!” Sam hissed at him from his workspace, where several slides and bottled samples were laid out next to a microscope. He grabbed Jim’s arm and yanked him over before Jim could answer. “The hell are you doing here?” He whispered so softly, Jim could hardly hear him.
“Captain sent me to pick up the Filbini report,” Jim whispered back. “And I have to talk to Mr. Spock.”
“Talk to him?” Sam was almost mouthing now. “No no! You can’t!”
“Sam, it’s fine,” Jim insisted. “Pike wants me to try to get through to him. Find out what’s up.”
Sam looked him up and down. “You? Why you?”
Jim flailed a shrug. “Eh, I dunno? We play chess? Pike said maybe it’s a guy thing?”
“Spock’s not talking to anyone, even the captain,” Sam whispered. “He’s going to talk to his chess buddy from the Farragut? Does he even know your name?”
“Yes,” Jim hissed, sneering.
Sam Kirk’s little brother, Jim thought grimly. That was likely how Spock thought of him.
“Just ‘cause he has an eidetic memory,” Sam muttered, and waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. Go with God, Jimmy.”
Having received his brother’s non-blessing, Jim straightened his tunic and approached Spock from the side where he might be noticed peripherally. The last thing he wanted to do was startle a pissy Vulcan.
Jim opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Spock said, “What is it, Lieutenant?”
Okay, good start, Jim thought. He wasn’t dead yet. But Spock sounded as strained as he looked. Though Jim could only guess from his posture. Spock was still glaring down at his computer.
“Captain sent me to collect the report on Filbini,” Jim said. “If it’s ready. If not, ya know, I was wondering if I could assist you. I could use the-”
“It’s ready,” Spock said, and slid a PADD in his direction. “You may go.”
Well, there went that plan.
No easing then. So Jim just said, “Um… So, how’s your day going?” He leaned against the counter, pretending for all the world that Spock’s body language wasn’t telling him to run in the opposite direction as soon as possible.
“My status is none of your concern,” Spock bit out.
Ah.
“I disagree,” Jim said lightly. “I have concern for all my friends’ statuses.”
“We’re friends, are we?” Spock said, sounding oddly sad about it. But it was better than an angry demand for him to exit.
He does need a friend! Jim thought. He had found a tiny hole to poke through, perhaps.
“Yeah,” Jim said. “I mean, I enjoy your company. In fact, I haven’t seen you for chess in a while. I wondered if-”
“Please leave,” Spock said and finally turned his head to look at him. His dark eyes were both wild and watery.
“Mr. Spock, you’re not well,” Jim blurted out. He chewed on his lip. “You’re not yourself.”
“I am fine,” Spock snapped. “Leave me to my work. Pike is waiting on that report.”
“Hokay then,” Jim said. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Then he made the absolutely critical error of absentmindedly patting Spock on the shoulder.
He should have known better. Only he’d touched Spock many times at this point, despite having heard that Vulcans didn’t necessarily like that…except he’d found that out only after practically feeling the guy up by Vulcan standards upon meeting him. Sometimes he remembered and was deliberately more careful and other times, particularly after a drink or two, he forgot and happily smacked Spock’s back or patted his shoulder either because Spock had just won a game or because he had. Either way, Spock had never shown discomfort.
This time Spock jerked and whipped around as Jim reared back, expecting some explosion of rage.
This was not that.
Spock’s mouth hung open, his breath short, his eyes fixed somewhere around Jim’s shoulder. His cheeks were flushed an olive green. “You must leave,” Spock said, and for the struggle it obviously took him to say it, Jim agreed.
“Okay,” he murmured, clutching his PADD. “Sure. No problem.”
Not the greatest conclusion to the conversation, Jim admitted to himself. Yet something about it made Jim think there was more conversation to be had. And anyway, Jim had never been the type to give up easily.
That evening, once Jim had eaten dinner at the end of his shift, he headed straight to Spock’s quarters.
He had opened a dialogue. This was, at least, a step.
When he got there, he found Nurse Chapel standing in front of Spock’s quarters, holding a tray bearing a bowl of purple soup. She wore an uncertain grimace on her face.
“Hey, Chapel,” Jim said. “You look eh… ambivalent.”
“Hi.” She frowned at him. “Are you…?” She gestured vaguely with her tray.
“Captain wants me to try to talk to him, yeah,” Jim said.
She nodded, as if that made sense. “I don’t think he’s eating,” she said. “I haven’t seen him in the mess all week. And the way he’s acting… I was going to try to get him to take this soup. But I’m pretty sure he’d just throw it back in my face.”
“He might throw it in mine too,” Jim said. “But you want me to try?”
“Sure.” She looked like she wanted to say much more and also like she was about to start crying.
“Hey, it’ll be okay,” Jim said. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be solved.”
“Yeah, I just… I miss when he and I could talk like friends.” She shrugged and patted his arm. “Maybe you’ll have better luck. I think he really likes you.”
That was something, anyway. He smiled kindly. “That would be helpful,” he allowed. “I like him too. Listen, you’re a good friend. Whatever he thinks right now.”
“Thanks.” She attempted a smile and went on her way and Jim sighed, watching her go. Then, balancing the tray on his arm, he took a deep breath and pressed the button to announce his presence.
“It’s Jim Kirk,” he said into the comm.
“Go away!” Spock hollered from within.
He couldn’t help but snort at that. Jim opted to divert to the more direct tact. “I’m on Pike’s orders. I just need to talk to you for a second.”
Silence for so long that Jim was about to follow up when Spock said, “Enter.” The doors whooshed open.
Success!
Kirk walked in and took a look around. Spock’s quarters were nice and, he noticed, not in terrible disarray. It was something he had a mind to check for. He’d had a couple periods of depression as a result of dealing with some serious trauma himself. One’s environment said a lot. Spock’s place looked neat, outside of a few garments of clothing on the floor.
Spock sat on the deck, back against a bulkhead by his desk. Jim cleared his throat and carried the tray in, setting it down on the small dining table. He stood in the middle of the room, at a secure distance from Spock.
“I brought soup,” Jim announced.
“What orders?” Spock said. He did not look at Jim, his eyes trained on the deck.
“Well,” Jim said. “I may have exaggerated slightly.” Spock only glared and Jim went on. “I’m not technically on orders. But Captain Pike did ask me to um… To see what the hell is goin’ on, Spock. Everyone is worried about you.”
Spock shut his eyes and said, “As previously stated, I am fine.”
“I think we both know that’s not true.” Jim sat down on the floor, several feet from Spock, who continued to glower. But, Jim noticed, he did not tell Jim to go away. “Okay, you don’t want to talk. So, I’m going to. I could say that Captain Pike is my mentor. That he’s grooming me for the chair. Thus, I would like to impress him. So if he asks me to do something, I’m going to do it, goddammit.”
Spock blinked at him, maybe momentarily startled by the honesty.
But Jim continued. “But that isn’t why I’m here,” he said. “Not really. I didn’t notice anything so different, to tell you the truth. Just that you haven’t been around to hang out and play chess and I missed it. But the people who really know you say something’s way off. Even I can see that now. And…” He smiled lopsidedly. “When someone’s in trouble, I gotta help. I’m just wired that way. And Pike asked me to. So, what’s goin’ on? You at least seem a little more yourself right now.”
“It will not last,” Spock said, sounding very tired.
Jim nodded. That was something. A hint. An attempt at conversation. He folded his legs up on the floor, resting his wrists on his knees. “Okay. Is this like… Is this a mental health issue? Because it’s real common, ya know. I have some experience with this stuff myself-”
“No,” Spock said, so matter-of-factly that Jim had to believe him. “It is not that.”
“If something happened though,” Jim said, “like… a death in the family. Something like that-”
“No.” Spock shut his eyes, looking almost amused. “I apologize for making you think such a thing. No one has died. At least, not yet. This is medical in nature.”
“Good.” Jim nodded. “That’s good. Now we’re getting somewhere. But you didn’t want to talk to Dr. M’Benga about it?”
Spock groaned and folded up his legs, hugging his knees. “Ugh. I was inexcusable to him.”
There was something terribly cute about it. Jim covered his mouth. “Oh, that? C’mon now, Spock. M’Benga’s been in a war. You think a little threat from some science officer phases him?”
Spock actually perked up at that, gazing at Jim from behind his knees. “We…do not speak of it, normally. Not to outworlders. Not even amongst ourselves.”
“We.” Jim sat forward. “We, as in Vulcans? It’s a Vulcan thing. A Vulcan medical…thing. Is it a Vulcan disease?” His heart started racing and a fear too palpable to be explained away by concern for a simple crush overcame him. “Spock, are you really sick? You- you have to let us help, okay? I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking not going to the doctor, but if you think I’m- we are going to let you suffer with some disease-”
“It is not a disease.” Spock’s brow furrowed, and he looked equal parts curious and surprised by Kirk’s outburst. “It happens to all Vulcans.”
Jim took a deep breath and rubbed his thighs, calming himself. “Okay. Okay, can’t be that bad then. If it happens to everybody. C’mon, you’ve come this far. We’re just two guys talking here. What’s goin’ on?”
Spock stretched his legs out in front of him and said, “It is called the pon farr.”
Spock was about ten seconds into his explanation before Kirk hopped to his feet and said, “I’m going to need a drink for this. You want one?”
“No.” Spock was shutting down again, all folded up and glaring. “No, you should go now. You must go.”
“You’re…feeling unwell again?”
All Jim knew so far was that all Vulcans at some point after puberty experienced an overwhelming biological need to take a mate, which then repeated on a seven-year cycle.
Which really didn’t sound so bad. But given how gloomy Spock was about it, Kirk had to assume there was a lot more to it.
“Yes,” Spock muttered.
“Okay. When do you think you’ll be okay to talk again?” Jim said. “Let me put it this way. I can come back at 0300 if need be. Whenever.”
“I would not disrupt your-”
“Spock.” Kirk narrowed his eyes. “What time do you think you’ll be okay to talk again?”
“Perhaps in three hours,” Spock said.
“Then I’ll be back in three hours.” Kirk got to his feet. “You should have some of that soup. Unless eating is going to make you vomit or something. See you in a bit.”
“You have to mate or you die.” Jim’s fingers wrapped around the neck of a brandy bottle. The brandy had been less than half full to begin with and Jim was only taking an occasional sip while Spock drank water. Jim liked to think the presence of a drink lent a more relaxed atmosphere to the conversation. But perhaps that was more for him than it was for Spock.
There was nothing relaxing about “blood fever” as a conversational topic.
They were on the floor again. Sitting on the floor seemed to calm Spock in some way.
“There is also the koon-ut-kal-if-fee,” Spock explained. His gaze was fixed on the bottle, but he looked away whenever Jim looked at him. “That only occurs if there is a challenger for the mate. Then the mate must be won in a combat to the death. But that is exceedingly rare.”
“Ah.” Jim took another sip of brandy. “Gotcha.”
He thought he had done pretty well so far at removing his human biases and not judging a culture he could not possibly understand. But if only out of concern for Spock, it was difficult.
“Okay.” He capped the brandy and set it aside. He was maybe mildly buzzed and wanted to keep his wits about him now that the problem was becoming much more clear. “So, you get good and betrothed at a young age. Before pon farr will hit because you don’t know when it’s coming. I get it. So then when it hits, you go find your mate and everything is fine.”
“That is usually how it works.” Spock was staring at the ceiling. He seemed allergic to looking directly at Jim.
Jim said, “But your betrothed…?”
“Is no longer my betrothed. We have officially severed our bond.”
“Right.”
He’d wondered about that, knowing he’d dated Chapel briefly. But he’d never heard the gossip on Spock’s other ex somehow. Though he cursed the little zing of relief at learning that Spock was not, in fact, engaged.
“Well,” Jim said, sighing. “We’ve been dancing around it. But from what I understand now, you’re experiencing this pon farr for the first time and you need to um…mate soon, but the relationship with the mate-”
“T’Pring,” Spock said.
“T’Pring, right. Things fell through with T’Pring, so you need a mate and you need it quick.”
“Yes,” Spock mumbled, so softly Jim almost missed it.
“Okay, well forgive me, but it seems like if T’Pring knew you were going through this right now, she would agree to-”
“No.” He crossed his arms. “It cannot be T’Pring. For her sake as well as mine.”
Kirk tabled that option since death or T’Pring seemed like a pretty easy choice, even if he had not yet met T’Pring.
“But it doesn’t have to be a betrothed person, though? To sate the pon farr?” Kirk said. “Can it be anybody?”
“It does not have to be the betrothed. For the purposes of sating pon farr, it need not be within the bounds of any relationship. They need only be compatible in a certain way.” Spock cleared his throat. “Sexually. It is a matter of feeling. Instinct.”
“Ah, a Vulcan’s very favorite things,” Jim said wryly. “Feeling and instinct.”
“Of course.” Spock nearly smiled at that.
“So, I guess Christine is-”
“No.” Spock’s eyes widened. “That would be-”
“Messy,” Jim said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I get it. Big negative on the exes. Let me ask you, have you come up with any kind of plan?”
Spock’s expression crumpled so completely that Jim felt like a jerk for asking. “I… It is as you said. I have not been myself.”
“Okay.” Jim clapped his hands together and rubbed his palms. “Got it. Just want to confirm that we’re in problem-solving mode here. So, you need a mate. One-time thing. No strings. Parameters are that they must be sexually compatible.”
“Lieutenant, you do not have to-”
“Shut up,” Kirk snapped. “I’m thinking. Okay, parameters for sexual compatibility? Gender?”
Spock shrugged. “I have no preference.”
“Cool cool cool.”
Score.
“I mean…” Kirk worried the palm of his hand with his thumb. “Honestly, the easiest thing would be to get to a starbase and get you a sex worker. Not that it would guarantee compatibility. You’d have to find the right one, I suppose. And we’d have to divert the ship. I think we’re nearest Starbase 125. But let’s consider it an option.”
Spock said nothing to that. He was finally looking at Kirk, albeit with a dazed stare.
Kirk said, “Is there anyone on the ship you can think of who might be-”
“I require tea.” Spock leapt to his feet and crossed to the synthesizer. Kirk mimicked him and stood, hugging his chest. But facing him away from him, Spock spoke. “I have not…explained it well. You are under the impression it is a single act of sexual intercourse. It is not. Once sexual contact is initiated, it is usually four days until the pon farr is sated.”
Spock turned around, gazing at Jim as he sipped his tea and Jim regretted standing up, but he was almost confident Spock wasn’t noticing the quasi hard-on in his pants.
“Oh,” Jim said. “Right.”
Pick me, Jim thought.
Tentatively, Jim crossed the room and leaned on the bulkhead next to Spock, who was fiddling around at the synthesizer again as if hiding. He put his tea down and Jim saw how he pressed his fingers to the edge of the counter until his knuckles were white.
“There are four hundred people here,” Jim said. “There’s gotta be somebody on the ship who would be compatible with you who would-”
“Are you trying to…?” Spock pursed his lips.
“Am I what?”
Then Spock turned his head and sent Jim a look he couldn’t possibly misinterpret, his mouth moving funny as his eyes moved over Jim.
“Yes,” Jim said, sucking in a breath. “Yes, I’ll do it.”
“I did not mean to imply-”
“Yes, you did and I’m saying yes,” Jim said. “Unless you’re saying I’m …not compatible or…?”
Spock could not seem to help himself. He shot Jim another loaded look, his gaze flicking up and down his body unmistakably. “You are compatible,” he muttered, glancing away again.
“Yeah?” Kirk could not possibly help his smirk. “Can I ask what it is? Is it physical attraction or-”
“I just know,” Spock said. He rolled his neck. “Your scent, if nothing else. Even with suppressants. When you entered the lab today.... It is intoxicating. But that does not mean I am asking you to-”
“No, you’re clearly not asking me,” Jim said. “I’m practically insisting on it. And I’m going to need you to buckle down and find that trusty logic of yours hiding behind the horny. Because this is an easy solution and I’m consenting and willing here and you’re being irrational for no good reason-”
“It-it would be taking advantage of you.” Spock spun to face him. “I will not-”
“Okay, okay. Spock, I see the problem here.” Jim rubbed his mouth and took three steps back toward the window. He looked Spock in the eye. “I’m going to have to be real direct. So, just to be clear and without qualification. I. Want. You.”
Spock leaned against the bulkhead and slowly slid down to the floor. “Oh.”
“I’m only standing way over here, because I get the impression that once it starts, it starts?” Jim said. He crossed his arms, fiddling with the sleeve of his uniform.
“I believe so. In addition to everything I’ve explained, there is also the fact that I am half human. That may change things.”
“So…are we doing this?” Kirk said.
Spock clenched his jaw. He looked like he might eat Jim and forget to fuck him. “It is the most logical option. But… we would need to be isolated together.”
“Lockdown situation,” Jim said.
“Yes. And then everyone would know.” Spock grimaced, rubbing his fingers together.
“Okay, I have an idea how we can keep this discreet,” Jim said. “But we have to tell M’Benga. And Pike has to know. I mean, we won’t be able to work. He has to have some idea what’s really going on.
“Agreed,” Spock said, though the thought obviously pained him.
“Can you hold out until tomorrow?”
“The blood fever has not yet begun,” Spock said. “Tomorrow would be fine.”
About two weeks previous to the beginning of Spock’s pon farr, Jim had accompanied him on a mission to Cutler, a perfectly pleasant if forgettable type of M-class planet, the kind that didn’t cause problems, revealed nothing of particular interest, and was only neatly cataloged before the Enterprise moved on. It was the perfect lie.
“You want me to produce fraudulent medical reports,” M’Benga said, narrowing his eyes.
Jim scrubbed his face with his hands and sat back in his chair. They were secreted away in M’Benga’s office. He could practically feel the weight of Chapel’s curiosity through the door. “I don’t know that you have to fake any official reports. I’m asking that you tell people that Spock and I caught a virus on Cutlera. Maybe it’s been dormant. Now it might be contagious. And we have to be quarantined together for four days. In his quarters.”
“And…the captain asked you to do this for Spock?” M’Benga said warily.
“No-no, of course not!” Jim sputtered. “He just asked me to find out what was going on with him. I…volunteered to…help him out.” He blushed almost painfully.
“I see,” M’Benga said. “I studied Vulcan medicine, but I have not dealt with pon farr before. They’re so private about it. Alright. I’m…glad he has found a solution to this difficult problem. But I want to give both of you exams first. Simple physical exams. Run you over with the tricorder.”
“Can you do that in his quarters, and can you do it tonight?” Kirk said. “This needs to start tomorrow. From what I understand, he will struggle more once the plak tow begins and we don’t know when that is. So we’re on a clock here.”
“That’s fine,” M’Benga said, and he got to his feet. “I have some supplies I would like to provide as well. And if anything goes wrong in there, you absolutely must contact me.”
“Okay.” Kirk nodded. The reality of the situation was starting to set in, yet he also felt a little like he always did when given a task to complete.
Eyes on the prize, Kirk.
“Also, do you think you could inform the captain of what’s going on?” Kirk smiled hopefully.
M’Benga stared at him. “You…want me to inform Captain Pike that the officer he is grooming to replace him will be having sexual intercourse for several days with his favored surrogate son?”
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
“This job is very strange,” M’Benga said under his breath.