Archive of Our Own

A few seconds ago, all had been well. Jim had beamed back up to the ship with most of the landing party, having found the wayward Princess Havareh on an unpopulated mineral planet. The inhabitants of the planet Keid had refused to grant the Federation permission to mine dilithium on their planet until they located their princess, who apparently was considered a minor god there. Three parsecs, ten planet searches, and two dead crewmen later, they’d found the bitch hiding out on this planet, terrorizing the Human colonists with her terrible, shrewish personality. Spock had, of course, been the one to capture her, as he was the only one on the Enterprise not incapacitated by the blood-curdling Keidite scream. Jim had beamed up right before Spock, who had his arms clamped around the princess’s struggling lilac-colored arms, his face mildly conveying annoyance, which for him meant he was sorely tempted to just bitchslap the spoiled princess into the next quadrant.

All had gone promptly to shit seconds after Scotty started beaming up Spock and the princess. The transporter began to glow impossibly bright and then the usually mild sound of it working was replaced by what sounded like a train being beamed aboard. The medical alarm was blaring too, and Jim felt his insides go cold as he desperately looked into the blinding light of the transporter pad for his friend. The two figures seemed to flicker in and out, and it was so bright and so loud that Jim couldn't tell if Spock was screaming in agony or being tickled.

There was nothing like waiting a whole minute for a malfunctioning transporter to materialize its occupants...or what was left of them. Jim tried to push that thought away, instead focusing on the transporter controls, monitoring Spock's life signs as well as he could. Suddenly, Spock's vitals dropped steeply and Havareh's vitals completely plummeted.

"Spock!" Jim screamed, praying that Spock's Vulcan anatomy wouldn't fail him this time, would keep him alive. Jim had seen pictures of the aftermath of bad transporter accidents, mostly by Bones and his terrifying medical textbooks, always trying to immerse Jim into his own paranoia, a paranoia that was suddenly as valid as a tin-hatted 20th century man claiming aliens exist. The pictures were a horror show of limbs torn off victims, organs hideously protruding on the outside, heads set at a grotesque angle.

Finally the transporter wound down and two bodies hit the floor. Jim tore across the short distance to the pad, crashing to his knees by Spock's side and turning him over. Spock was breathing deeply, eyes wide. Jim patted him down with shaking hands, his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. Spock's hand came up and gripped Jim's upper arm.

"I am unharmed, Captain."

Instantly, relief rushed through him. He turned his attention to Havareh, Spock's hand still warm on his arm. Bones had apparently arrived while Jim had been focusing on Spock and was now kneeling next to Havareh, shaking his head slowly.

"She's dead, Jim."

Jim felt an instant of remorse for the loss, and then cursed softly because the people of Keid were not going to be happy that they'd accidentally gotten their princess-god killed. He definitely wasn't going to be on the planet's surface when that news was delivered.

Spock shifted on the floor, and a spike of worry lit through Jim. Bones had also noticed the sharp movement and was by Spock's side before Jim could blink, running his medical tricorder over Spock's body.

"I am quite all right, doctor," Spock intoned, releasing Jim's arm and standing on his own.

"We'd better do a complete physical to be sure," Bones murmured.

"Unnecessary," Spock said.

"'Unnecessary?' Your molecules were just scrambled for breakfast!"

"Are my vital readings in any way unusual?"

"No, but—"

"Then our main priority at the moment is traveling back to Keid and resolving this unfortunate diplomatic occurrence."

"He's right, Bones," Jim said, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "I'll have to do some fast talking if I want to convince them that we're not murdering scumbags."

*

Jim turned out to be wrong about the natives hating them. Not only were they not considered murdering scumbags, the entire crew was regarded as planetary heroes. Little did the cultural experts of Starfleet know, the general Keidite population had believed for centuries that their royal family was descended from their gods and, in light of their supposed lineage, were considered immortal. The fact that Havareh was mortal brought about instant political upheaval, challenging their belief in ancient doctrine as well as in their caste system, an institution for about three quarters of the planet's population (71.36%, if you want to be Spock-specific.) The Keidites were so grateful for their new freedoms that a week-long celebration and feast was hastily put together, and the crew was invited to attend as honored guests.

Never one for turning down a prime shore leave opportunity, Jim instantly agreed and let Spock organize the leave parties. This turned out to be a bad idea, because when Jim reviewed the schedule, he himself was placed on all four of the leave rotations and Spock was not on any of them. It was Jim's first clue that something strange was going on because his gut was telling him that Spock didn't want his captain on the ship.

Jim slimmed his scheduled leave down to just the last rotation and set out to observe Spock and his increasingly erratic behavior over the next week. Spock begged off playing chess with Jim, citing that he was spending his leave in meditation and finishing some independent research. It wasn't wholly unusual of him to do this, but Spock had never avoided Jim this much, even when he'd been busier, not even when they didn't like each other.

Just as Jim was starting to be convinced that it was him that Spock was avoiding, he began to notice that Spock wasn't spending time with anyone else either. At one point Uhura had asked Jim what was wrong with Spock, but Jim had shrugged it off and said that he was in one of his "contemplative phases", though really that was shit because this was more of an "I'm-ignoring-the-entire-living-breathing-world-for-some-reason-I'm-not-saying-la-la-la" phase.

Kirk was really starting to worry when the end of the week rolled around and he was set to go on the last remaining day of shore leave. But he wasn't going alone, worrying the entire time and not enjoying being treated like a king.

Jim hit the buzzer for Spock's quarters, and Spock answered promptly, clad in his meditation robes. The neckline hung low and Jim glanced at it in appreciation.

"Come with me planetside."

Spock looked more tolerant than standoffish, so Jim felt his hopes rise. "To Vulcans, to rest is to rest, to not expend energy. I am currently resting."

"You've 'rested' for six days. Come on, you helped slay the evil dictator, you so need to get in on the worship too."

Oh no, there it was. The stony glare of cold disapproval.

"I do not revel in the fact that I was responsible for the death of another lifeform. Despite her negative disposition and the positive political revolution her death engendered, I do not wish to celebrate the loss of life."

Jim winced. "Okay, so that was an asshole thing to say. Let me rephrase what I mean; her death was an accident, but it also happened to give lot of people enlightenment and freedoms they’d been denied for centuries. You should extend a metaphorical diplomatic hand of friendship by attending their celebrations. You're not responsible."

"I should have anticipated that the Keidites have a high electrical charge in their bodies, an evolutionary result of their planet's strong magnetic field."

"Look, you may have been immune to the screams of a Keidite, but they sure as hell must have been disorienting. You weren't in your right mind, and even if you knew about the extra charge they have, it wouldn't matter because we've beamed up things that had much more electrical punch that anything they've got. You know all this, so I bet you're just trying to wiggle your way out of going. Come on, I'll even let you take a tricorder and play with the rocks and trees."

Spock's eyes seemed to light up, even if nothing else changed on his face. Jackpot.

"Perhaps I can be convinced. Do you believe that we can request a guide?"

*

Not only did they get a guide, they got a small caravan. Representatives from the four major nations of Keid all wanted to follow Jim around, and since Jim wanted to follow Spock, they wanted to follow Spock. Each representative came with his own scientist, each scientist came with his own team of researchers, and an extra half a dozen trail guides were thrown in to lead the expedition through the jungle and keep their asses from getting eaten by predators—though, with all the high-tech equipment that came with them, they were mostly there to haul supplies and recommend shortcuts. Thirty-six men for what was, essentially, a nature walk. Thirty-six men, a veritable sausage fest, and none of the sausages were even remotely hot—barring his first officer, of course.

They'd parked their floating jelly beans ("The strong magnetic field of this planet combined with the lighter pull of gravity allows them to create technology that uses those factors to propel seemingly dense objects with relative ease." "That still doesn't explain why they designed their air cars to look like jelly beans.") on the outskirts of a dense jungle an hour ago and they were now over a mile into it. Jim kept a close eye on Spock, who was alternately examining the plant life and speaking to the scientists using his professor voice, which Jim could only appreciate aurally since he didn't understand half of what they were talking about. Jim did notice, however, that Spock was lacking that thinly-veiled boyish delight he wore like a second skin when studying new things. Instead, Spock was treating this excursion like a research expedition in which he had to work quickly to find a cure or to stop some sort of disaster. It discomfited Jim because he felt like his ship was in danger, but that was ridiculous because Spock would have told him if something was up.

Jim was pulled from his confusing train of thoughts as the Keids began to trill excitedly in their native tongue. Jim's universal translator failed to translate some specifics of their words, so he figured that they were approaching a particularly awesome plant that hadn't made it into Starfleet's dictionary yet.

"Gentlemen, behold the Veiir!" said the ambassador from the nation of Tek'zs, arms waving expansively at a collection of beige plants that towered over them. They were around nine feet tall and resembled droopy mushrooms. "The lifeblood and mother of our people!"

With that odd pronouncement, one of the plants next to them spewed forth a few gallons of milky liquid onto Jim, Spock, the ambassador who had introduced the plant, and three scientists. It smelled like grass and was disconcertingly warm. Jim wiped his face off, cursing not-so diplomatically at the mess. Some kind of cloth was pressed into his hands and he instantly used it to wipe his face.

"Well that's just lovely. I guess it likes us," Jim said, trying to find his sense of good humor. That was when Jim noticed the confused murmurings with words like 'unusual', 'strange', and 'must document' hitting his ears. "What's wrong?"

The Tek'zs ambassador appeared too flummoxed to speak so, oddly, it was a guide who answered him. "The Veiir are only supposed to fertilize in the presence of an ovulating female."

"Fertilize? Ovulate?" Jim asked, his tone demanding a better, saner answer.

"The Veiir act in a symbiotic relationship with the Keid, Captain," Spock said, roughly scrubbing the towel around the nape of his neck. Spock sounded annoyed. Probably because Vulcans hated to be wet, or at least Spock hated to be wet. "These plants serve in the mating process of the Keids. The fluid released by the plant causes Keidite females to release a mating hormone that attracts males of the species."

"Great, so we were basically jizzed on," Jim surmised.

Another ambassador of a nation Jim couldn't hope to pronounce stepped forward and wiped his clean hands on the cloth Jim had tried to dry off with. Jim wrinkled his nose. "It is unusual that the Veiir released its sap when there are no females present."

"Strange," echoed a scientist, who was rubbing his hands in Spock's cloth now. Jim looked around and saw that they were all touching some of the goop like it was a great moisturizer or something.

"Okay, why are you guys rubbing your hands all in it?"

They all managed to look sheepish and it was the Tek'zs ambassador who decided to answer, cheeks dark like they were stained with grape juice. "A habit, really. If one is covered in the same sap an exposed female was covered in, the mating fever will not overcome them."

"Whoa, mating fever?" he looked over to Spock for an explanation, but Spock had gone ashen and was carefully not looking at Jim. Geez, were Vulcans that prudish?

"The hormone released by the female attracts males to them. It compels them to mate," an ambassador from Raailecti said.

Jim suddenly understood why their entire outfit was made up of men and why this plant was at once vital and kept far away from populated areas—it would be kind of awkward for all the men of a civilized society to go around blindly humping the females. A few of the scientists were examining the plant now, extracting some samples and placing them into containers. Well, at least they'd brought some entertainment to the group.

"We apologize for this strange occurrence," the Tek'zs ambassador said, and the other three ambassadors joined in on the profuse apologies. Jim waved their concern away.

"It's all right. I think my science officer and I would like a change of clothes," Jim said. Spock approached him shortly, not quite making eye contact.

"Captain, I wish to beam back up to the ship."

"But—we just got here! They'll get us a change of clothes, no problem."

"Jim," Spock said, and Jim instantly noted the title drop. "I respectfully wish to spend the rest of my leave aboard the ship. I apologize."

Jim sighed. Yeah, he could understand how having an alien plant come all over you could fuck your day up.

“That’s fine. Get cleaned up and report to the bridge. After the final ceremonies, we’ll be leaving orbit.”

“Understood, Captain.”

*

The party had been fun enough. There was an amazing firework show, made even more awesome by the high electrical current of the atmosphere, and the food was pretty good. He was even offered sex three times. He turned them all down, though, still bummed that Spock wasn’t there and realizing that he was no closer to lifting Spock’s strange mood than he was before beaming to the planet. He ended up leaving the festivities early, intent on finding Spock, batting his eyelashes, and getting some damn answers so that next time they were on leave, Jim could cavort and get laid with a free conscience.

Spock was nothing if not predictable; Jim found him in the science labs within five minutes. When he walked in, however, there was something off. A couple of the lab techs were working as per usual, but three others were staring avidly at Spock for no reason Jim could see. Maybe Spock was giving a lecture or showing them something. Jim walked up behind them.

“Something interesting going on?” he asked lightly. All three jumped, looking flushed and vaguely guilty, as if they were kids caught with their hands in a cookie jar. Spock turned at the sound of Jim’s voice, glancing at the crewmen as if he had just noticed they were there.

“Is there something you require?” Spock asked them in a terse voice, setting a vial perfunctorily into an analyzer. The three murmured something that must have equated to ‘the jig is up, let’s beat it’ and left the lab.

“Those guys weren’t bothering you, were they?” Jim asked, cutting his eyes to the door they’d escaped from.

Spock hesitated briefly before replying, “No, Captain.”

Jim didn’t really believe him, but it seemed minor enough that he let the matter slide for the time being. Well, at least until crew evaluations came up again.

“What are you working on?”

“Only one of my many recreational experiments. You would not find it of interest.”

“You know, I am more than just a pretty face.”

Spock looked sidelong at Jim, assessing. “I interpret that statement to mean that you believe I preclude you from discussion of my experiments because I hold the belief that you do not possess the mental capacity to understand them. That is clearly wrong, as I am fully aware of your mental proficiency and various scholastic accomplishments. I simply know that you have only a passing interest in chemistry and biology.”

“And you would be completely right as usual,” Jim said, smiling. He wished there was a way he could gather Spock’s sparse but genuine praises, bottle them as a sunscreen and bask all day in them. “If I’m bothering you, I can find somewhere else to be, no problem—”

“You may stay. Your presence is non-invasive.”

So Jim stayed a few minutes, perched on a stool, telling Spock all about the celebrations he’d missed while Spock quietly worked and listened. Jim didn’t mind Spock continuing with his work; he always knew that Spock hung on to his every word, as the guy was fully capable of holding up a conversation while computing complex equations in his head. It worked well for them, as Jim loved to talk his head off and Spock tolerated that tendency. Maybe more than tolerated it, since Spock seemed not to stick around and listen to just anyone blabber at him, never voluntarily engaged in small talk if he could avoid it first.

Eventually, Jim got tired of sitting still.

“Care to take a break and play some chess?” Jim asked.

“I am afraid that I must continue with my experiment tonight until it is completed. I would like to ‘check the rain’ and reschedule a game for tomorrow night.”

Jim chuckled. “It’s ‘take a rain check’, Spock.”

“As you wish. At any rate, I hope your evening is pleasant. I will plan for you to arrive in my quarters at any time after 1900 hours tomorrow night.”

Mollified, Jim said goodnight and went to bother Bones in sickbay, having already completed all his paperwork over the last week.

*

The following day they left orbit around Keid. Everything seemed to go back to normal. Jim didn’t see Spock during the day, as Spock was busy giving lectures in the science labs, but he was in his quarters when Jim swung by for a chess game that night. Spock seemed a little wrung out as he set up the board, but Jim attributed that to dealing with illogical humans asking redundant questions for hours and put it out of his mind.

That is, until he went to lunch a couple of days later.

Jim usually worked two shifts on average, given that there were no disasters occurring. In all truth, captains were never really off duty, but his work hours usually totaled up to two full shifts, one on bridge and the other attending to ship operations. His eating schedule hardly wavered; he woke at 0630, showered, dressed, and was on the bridge at 0700. A couple of hours after that, he was eating breakfast, and then he didn’t eat again until around 1700.

Today he had skipped breakfast in order to give a full briefing on the results of their last mission to Starfleet and thus was starving by mid-afternoon. Spock ate at this time with Uhura and then had his evening meal with Jim, effectively giving equal time to both friends. The fact that Jim was taking lunch today was pure serendipity, because as soon as he entered the mess hall, he knew that Spock would have later skipped dinner to avoid having Jim see what he saw now.

Uhura was absent and a group of crewmen clustered around Spock instead, all uncomfortably close. Spock was eating his lunch, seemingly oblivious to the small harem that swarmed him. Jim might have laughed at the situation, except all of the men had a glazed look in their eyes like they were slightly drugged and on the verge of doing something stupid. Jim’s eyes darted to a lieutenant’s hand reaching out and blind fury engulfed him when that hand grasped Spock’s forearm proprietarily, startling Spock enough that he dropped his fork, sending it clattering to the tray.

“What’s going on here?” Jim demanded, stalking up to the table. Spock rose from his seat, and a wave of sickness rolled over Jim when he saw how relieved Spock looked at his interruption. The men blinked at Jim, some of the dazed sheen in their eyes melting away and, as if they were waking up, they stood slowly to attention.

“Can someone explain to me why Mr. Spock is suddenly the most popular boy in school this afternoon?”

The men looked to one another for an answer, and while this just confused Jim even more, he felt a little better knowing that even they didn’t know what they were doing.

“We were just talking with Commander Spock,” Ensign Reeves said.

“Just talking,” Jim repeated, making it clear he didn’t believe that for a second. The men were silent for a while longer, and Jim didn’t know if they were struggling for an explanation or if their attention was drifting off, half of them having gone back to staring at Spock again. “Anyone care to tell me what the topic of this conversation was?”

More muddled silence. Jim fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“I’m sure you are all aware that every member of Starfleet must undergo rigorous training in crew relations. In fact, this particular crew was heavily inundated in Vulcan relation training due solely to the fact that its second in command was a Vulcan. Have I been misinformed of these facts?”

“No, sir,” the men chorused.

“Then you are well aware that each of you have grossly violated Mr. Spock’s cultural boundaries just now. I would think that my crew, which I like to think is the best in Starfleet, would not only show better respect to a commanding officer, but to a culture on the brink of extinction.”

The men shifted guiltily while Spock’s face remained perfectly blank.

“Expect a formal reprimand for each of you by first shift tomorrow. Dismissed.”

As soon as the men all but fled the scene, Jim jerked his head toward the door, and left with Spock. He headed straight for his quarters and—since Spock was highly intelligent—Spock followed Jim inside.

When the doors hissed shut, Jim spun around and said, “Spock, that was weird. I’m not blind, and you can’t ask me not to wonder why seven exemplary and disciplined officers were staring at you like you were a ribeye steak.”

“I ask you to do nothing of the sort.”

“So, you know what’s going on but you won’t tell me, is that it?”

“I do not believe that I said I knew what prompted their behavior.”

Jim was appalled. “Then is this some form of harassment? I swear to god, I will have each and every one of those officers court marshaled if that’s the case—”

“Jim,” Spock said. “I can assure you that those officers were not fully cognizant of their actions.”

“Meaning that you know what’s going on and are purposefully evading a direct answer,” Jim surmised.

“That would certainly be one interpretation.”

Spock was apparently dead set on not giving a direct answer. Jim started pacing, thinking quickly over all the details. The men were not themselves, meaning that this either this was Spock’s fault or the fault of a third party. Jim suddenly remembered the men gathered in the science labs three days ago, different from the ones at lunch today, then on the heels of that, recalled Spock’s odd behavior ever since the transporter malfunction—

“Shit,” Jim said, stilling. “You never got checked out after the transporter incident, did you?”

Spock avoided Jim’s eyes. “I am quite healthy.”

“And just how can you possibly know that? Besides, you’re well aware that unknown space pathogens crop up all the time! You’re getting a physical.”

“Captain, I would rather—”

“Commander,” Jim interrupted, face flushing in irritation. “That was an order. In fact, I’ll escort you to sickbay myself.”

Spock pursed his lips, and Jim almost wavered at the barely-concealed anger in his eyes.

“That will not be necessary. I shall report there shortly.”

When the door closed behind Spock’s stiff back, Jim sagged against his desk. If it turned out that there was nothing wrong with Spock, Jim was going to have to grovel for Spock to talk to him any time soon.

*

Jim tried to wait longer, but fifteen minutes later he was walking through the doors of sickbay, annoyed when he saw Bones slumped over in a chair; Spock had obviously not arrived yet, as Bones would have done the exam himself.

“You’re about to have a new patient,” Jim said, hopping onto a biobed next to Bones.

“Finally getting that brain surgery you obviously need?”

“Nope, my mind is beautiful and clearly underappreciated. No, your new patient is Spock, who has decided that my orders are to be taken lightly and who will thus have to have my foot surgically removed from his ass.”

“Please—don’t talk about the hobgoblin’s nether regions. You won’t need to do all that anyway; he’s being checked over by Nurse Chapel.”

Jim furrowed his eyebrows. “Is there a particular reason you’re not doing the exam?”

Bones sighed heavily, rubbing tired hands over his face. “Mostly because he requested that a female do it, and partly because I wanted to bend him over a biobed the second he walked in.”

That…was unexpected.

“Forget brain surgery; I think my ears need to be checked. Did you just imply that you want to, erm, jump his bones, Bones?”

“Of course I don’t want to, you brat—hold on a minute.” Bones jabbed a finger into Jim’s sternum. “Are you saying that you don’t feel that way?”

Jim boggled. “Is this some new fad going around the ship? Am I fashionably late to the Spock lust bus?”

“I’ve had two crewmembers come to me in confidence and request psych evals because of a sudden desire to have sex with their commanding officer. Both of these men, I might add, are happily married. I didn’t believe them at first, assumed they were either pulling my leg or were repressing some serious latent homoerotic leanings, until that overgrown elf came in and I got to experience the mindfuck for myself.”

“How in the hell is that possible?”

“Beats me. All I can do right now is avoid the bastard and patiently wait for this shift to end so I can drink my way into peaceful oblivion.”

Jim let Bones subside into miserable silence, trying to sort all this out in his mind. What the hell could make all the males on the ship suddenly want to have sex with Spock except Jim?

“I can’t imagine a transporter accident doing all this,” Jim muttered, mind still racing over possibilities.

“Neither can I. Anything else strange happen to you guys over the last few days? What all did you two do on shore leave?”

Jim gasped. “I’ve been an idiot. That plant on Keid! It spewed this stuff on us and it makes female Keidites go into heat.”

“Oh, you just happened to let that slip your mind?”

“Well, Spock’s not a girl and he’s not a Keidite, so yeah, sort of.”

“He’s not a human either, Jim! We have no idea how that plant might react to a Vulcan’s physiology. I’m going to wait for the exam results and then I think we should talk to those Keidites. I have a personal grudge against those purple bastards.”

After a short, awkward silence, Bones’ PADD beeped and he immediately began scanning the results. Something he read must have shocked the hell out of him, because his eyebrows winged up so far that they were in danger of disappearing into his hairline.

“What is it?”

“The bastard’s got a vagina.”

“A what?”

Bones whipped the PADD around, letting Jim see Spock’s chart. Sure enough, in loopy, girlish writing was written, ‘patient’s genitalia has inexplicably been rearranged due to transporter malfunction.’ Before Jim could read further, Bones went back to reading and immersing himself in the details as Jim tried to wrap his mind around the fact that Spock had been hiding a sporadic sex change for a couple of weeks now.

“As far as Nurse Chapel can see and from what Spock’s told her, the transporter flubbed with all that electrical discharge and rearranged a few molecules in that one particular area. She’s not sure, but the structure is not exactly like a human vagina, so either female Vulcans are different or, more likely, Spock’s manhood was swapped with Princess Havareh’s physical structure.”

“You’re telling me that Spock has a dead woman’s vagina?”

“It’s not her vagina, just the transporter got the atoms scrambled according to her pattern.”

“So, a dead woman’s vagina.”

“Her autopsy report showed that all her bits were intact. It just rearranged his molecules,” Bones said, growing annoyed.

“Vagina of the living dead,” Jim went on in a disbelieving voice.

“Jim—”

“Frankensnatch.”

“Damn it, stop that! At least we know the likely cause of all this and can figure out how to fix it—”

“I have been monitoring my condition sufficiently and further medical attention is not required, Doctor,” Spock said, entering the room with the least amount of grace Jim had ever seen the Vulcan possess, nearly knocking over a tray of surgical tools as he approached.

“Oh no you don’t, mister. My job is to make certain—”

Bones stopped mid-sentence, mouth falling a bit open as his eyes fell on Spock, one step away from flat-out drooling. Jim rolled his eyes and waved Spock out the door. Spock fled the scene and Bones snapped out of whatever fantasy he was in, face flushed.

“Goddamn it. I want every qualified person on this case working day and night to find a fix for this. From here on out, Spock is quarantined.”

“I’ll make sure he knows,” Jim said sympathetically, patting Bones’ shoulder. “You go take a cold shower.”

Jim rushed out the sliding doors before Bones could find something to throw at him, sobering as he walked to Spock’s quarters. His irritation that Spock had kept this pretty damn important piece of information from him for two weeks was fading and was rapidly being replaced by worry and guilt. Spock had to be feeling pretty humiliated right now, having his secret exposed to Bones and Chapel of all people. Jim would have given Spock time to cool off, but there were a million unanswered questions that needed to be addressed and his worry over Spock trumped whatever else he felt.

Jim had to wait several seconds after he buzzed for entrance to Spock’s quarters before Spock finally allowed him entrance. Spock had divested himself of his uniform and was standing at attention in his meditation robes, glaring at Jim. It was amazing how perfectly neutral Spock appeared unless you looked at his eyes, which somehow had the ability to churn like the event horizon of a black hole, sucking all available light from the room.

Jim immediately went for mercy. “I’m sorry, Spock.”

“That is quite all right, Captain.” It so wasn’t. “Nurse Chapel almost managed not to wince in sympathy when faced with my genital area. It was almost a professional exam—until I had to disrobe and explain my condition to her. Yes, it was highly refreshing to be reminded that Vulcans are not immune from the follies of existence and that her belief that I would be a perfect mate has been challenged.”

Dear god, it was like Spock’s passive aggressiveness could physically reach out and slap him across the few feet that lie between them.

“Look, I said I’m sorry. I didn’t think about the affect you were having over males and I didn’t expect Christine to be your examiner. I should’ve just bugged you until you broke down and told me instead of ordering you around.” Jim sighed and sat down in the seat across from Spock’s desk, rubbing his face tiredly. “I turn into an asshole when I’m worried and scared. Can I beg human frailty?”

Spock hesitated a few moments before moving from the center of the room to his desk, seating himself primly across from Jim. Jim chanced a look up, relieved to see that Spock looked less ready to throttle him. Again.

“You’re under quarantine until further notice,” Jim said quietly, shaping the words into a statement rather than an order. Spock nodded, obviously expecting this.

“I have researched my condition extensively and plan to turn over my findings promptly. I request that as few members of this crew know of my changed physical condition as possible.”

“McCoy knows all about confidentiality and so does Chapel. We’ll have to tell the crew about the plant and the effects its having, just so they don’t all think they’ve gone mad and they know to steer clear of you.”

“That is to be expected,” Spock agreed, nodding slightly.

“How far have you gotten in your research?”

“The results are promising. I have mapped out the genetic variances and have studied the transporter patterns of myself and Haverah. I can expect a full reversal of my molecular composition in 13.2 days.”

“Two more weeks? What about this heat business? Have you figured out a solution to that?”

Spock fidgeted. “I privately consulted with the Keidite scientists and researchers before leaving the planet and have ample material of this phenomena. In their 8,000 years of recorded existence, they have been unable to find a cure for the mating fever. Even with all their advanced technology, there is no known deterrent for this biological imperative.”

“I can’t believe this. It’s like something out of science fiction. How ridiculous is a species-wide mating drive?”

For some reason, Spock wouldn’t meet his eyes. He was probably mortified at all the randy humans crossing his path lately. Eventually Spock cleared his throat.

“It is rather fascinating to view the behavior of those suffering the madness.”

“So what have you tried? What if we get the science department to help out?”

Spock actually flushed a little, an adorable hue of pale green tingeing his cheeks.

“That will not be necessary. It is a highly private matter of a nature I am uncomfortable discussing with the crew.”

“Well, how ‘bout me? I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Spock said, expression softening. “The results have been unsatisfactory thus far. There appears to be no way to circumvent the Keidite estrous cycle. No matter what artificial means I employ, the status remains the same.”

“‘Artificial means?’ What, you mean a hypo of heat-reducer or something?”

“Negative. The Kedites helpfully supplied me with several samples of male seminal fluid. I have manually inserted them into my body to recreate the mating process.”

Something fizzed out in Jim’s brain. Something that stopped coherent thought and sent a slow burn to his lower regions. “Is that a science-y way to tell me that you fucked yourself with a dildo?”

Spock scowled and colored more. “A crude but effective analysis of the procedure.”

Procedure indeed. Spock had masturbated with a dildo. Did Spock own a dildo already or did he have to get one from the replicator? How big was it? Had he gotten off on it? Holy shit, it happened in this very room, just past the room divide and on top of Spock’s bed with its crisp sheets and neat corners. Jim hadn’t known if Vulcans jerked off, and they still might not, but he had 100% confirmation that one Commander Spock had sexually pleasured himself at least once in his lifetime. Is that why Spock had turned down a chess game in the science lab the other day? Because he had to go back to his room and—

“Captain, are you all right?”

Jim swallowed, realizing that he’d been silent for a good while.

“I’m fine, and that’s good. I mean, it’s great that you really did try your best to relieve—resolve the situation.” Jim mentally shook himself and focused on more important issues. “But now we’ve got to worry about you and the crew’s safety. We’ve already seen the reaction to you escalate in a period of three days. Imagine what it’s going to be like on this ship in two weeks.”

“The prospect is bleak.” Spock sighed, a clear signal that he was stressed. “I will be unable to perform a number of my duties. At this point I can safely work in the science labs, provided that all male crewmembers are directed away from my path and I only interact with female crewmembers.”

“I suppose that won’t be out of the question. I mean, it would get pretty boring for you if you had to sit in your quarters for two weeks. Scotty can be the acting first officer and Chekov can help at the science station.”

“There is also a starbase approximately eight days from our current position in case there are unforeseen complications.”

“You know,” Jim said, donning a playful tone, “You could just let nature take its course. I’ve heard that Ensign Palmer had a thing for you.”

“Out of the question,” Spock said firmly, taking the edge off Jim’s mirth with his severity. “It would be immoral to engage in intercourse when one party is not aware of their actions and is unable to give their consent.”

I can give consent, Jim thought, and where the hell had that come from?

“I’d better go tell Doctor McCoy everything and make an announcement to the ship.” Jim stood and looked down at Spock in quiet consideration. “Don’t worry—everything will be fine. I’ll take care of you.”

Spock blinked. “This human tendency to ascribe feelings in carrying out one’s duty—”

“—is silly, I know. I suppose you’ll just have to suffer my illogic as you always do and try to pretend you’re not glowing on the inside.”

“Glowing, Sir?”

“You’re positively radiant, Mr. Spock.”

Jim smiled as he caught Spock’s puzzled look out of the corner of his eye as he left for his own quarters.

*

The first day was awkward but surprisingly manageable. The crewmen stayed clear of Spock and clear of mind, the only hiccup being that the range of influence had expanded and a couple of crewmen had been caught off guard at the end of corridors as Spock walked to the science labs. The ship didn’t fall apart and no one was scarred for life, so Jim counted the day as a win and was happy that his crew was taking this situation seriously and professionally.

The same couldn’t be said for their captain.

Ever since Jim had let the thought of helping Spock out with his problem cross his mind, he’d been unable to think of little else. It was almost inevitable that he would think of it in depth, being that his mind always went over every single strategy at his disposal, even one that might get him thrown out of Spock’s quarters if he even suggested it. The thing is, it was a simple, logical alternative. Spock and Jim have sex, Spock waits around like normal for two weeks, runs himself through the transporter, becomes a real boy again, and they blissfully pretend this entire series of events never occurred. Yet, if Jim was just now coming up with this plan, Spock had surely thought of it days ago when he confirmed that the Veiir jizz had made Jim immune at the same time it made Spock Vulcan cat nip.

Jim spent that first night in his quarters jerking off and trying not to think of what Spock looked like with a vagina and failing spectacularly. Jim had never thought of Spock while masturbating before. Not because of some high moral code, but for the fact that he’d honestly never imagined Spock would ever have sex with him and because they were best friends, thus why he’d also never imagined sex with Bones either. But now that the possibility existed, suddenly Jim couldn’t keep his hands off himself—which was a great thing, because that kept them off of Spock, who spent the evening in Jim’s quarters that night, playing chess and chatting amiably with Jim as if he hadn’t blown Jim’s entire worldview apart the day before.

Jim began the next day with a combination jerk off session and cold shower, thus making him irritable from the get-go as he settled into his command chair. He was momentarily glad Spock wasn’t there because he’d be able to sense something was wrong just by the way the back of Jim’s head was dejectedly tilted, but then bummed out again when he realized that he missed Spock being there all day.

“Captain,” Ensign Masters said urgently, her tone prompting Jim to shed his funk and turn in his chair to face the communications station. “Security has reported an altercation on deck 12 between security, Mr. Spock, and Lt. Uhura.”

“On my way,” Jim said, shooting out of his chair and barreling into the turbo lift. Jim’s heart was racing the entire way to Deck 12 as he jogged down its corridors until he reached the threshold of the science labs, staring at Spock and Uhura arguing about something as two lab techs were standing over a security guard as he lay on the ground, groaning in pain.

“…unnecessary and reckless.”

“Don’t give me that—he was attacking you!”

“What the hell happened?” Jim demanded.

“Lt. Uhura was neutralizing a minor threat, Captain.”

“He means that I saw Spock being assaulted by officer Chambers and punched him in the stomach.”

“Assaulted?” Jim repeated, insides going cold.

“I was quite able to deflect his advances, Lieutenant,” Spock told her, and Jim winced when Uhura rightfully glared at him.

“With a phaser aimed at your head? You should be thanking me, Commander.”

“He held a phaser on you?” Jim asked sharply, glaring at Spock with more heat than even Uhura could manage.

“I provoked him by breaking his grip on my arms with undo force and his combat training treated me as a threat.”

“Yeah, because he was making an unwanted advance. You had every right to defend yourself,” Uhura argued.

Jim felt like sitting on the ground and curling into a ball. Spock could have been killed over this. If Uhura hadn’t been there to intervene, Chambers could have fired on Spock in a lustful rage. All the amusement Jim had gotten out of this entire situation with Spock was gone, replaced by anger and fear for Spock’s safety and for his crew.

“Officer Chambers is to be taken to sickbay and questioned, though we all know he’s probably unaware of what he was doing. Lt. Uhura, expect a commendation.”

“Unnecessary, Captain. I’ve got reward enough.”

That managed to make Jim smile. “I guess you have, though I’m doing it anyway. Mr. Spock.” Jim’s voice dropped about twenty degrees. “I need to speak with your privately.”

“Of course, Captain,” Spock said, perfectly blank, meaning that he was anxious as all fuck.

As soon as Jim entered his quarters and the doors shut, he descended on Spock, pointing a finger at his chest.

“You are confined to your quarters. I don’t care how fucking bored you get—learn how to knit for all I care, just stay there. I’m posting at least one female guard outside your quarters ‘round the clock.”

Spock, instead of arguing like Jim thought he would, merely sighed and sat down at where they had the chess board still set up from the night before.

“Very well. I had not anticipated that those affected would turn violent when deprived of what they seek. At least, not within the behavioral pattern the Keidites reported in their own species. I should have accounted for this variable and realized that humans might be expected to progress at a faster rate into insanity.”

Jim tried to calm down in the face of Spock‘s chagrin, but all he could see was the chair Spock was sitting in empty and imagining never playing chess with Spock again, never talking to him, never seeing him each morning and knowing that the day can’t be a total waste as long as Spock looked over at him, nodded, and greeted him with, “Captain.” It made him sick and irrationally angry at Spock, more than it usually did when they were being attacked by natives or held ransom for Starfleet intelligence because Jim could have easily prevented this.

“Wow, there was something even you couldn’t predict? I guess Keidite women have inferior minds.”

Jim regretted it the minute he said it. He’d manage to insult Spock’s intelligence, his current emasculated state, and Keidite women all at the same time. Spock stiffened, eyes beginning to glitter black.

“As my condition is so repulsive to you, I shall take my leave.”

Spock shot toward the door, but Jim intercepted him, laying a gentle hand at the center of Spock’s chest.

“Don’t—that was horrible. You couldn’t have predicted what happened and you could never disgust me, not even if you turned into a Klingon. Please, stay,” Jim said, his voice small and weak without rage powering it.

Spock looked at him for a long moment and eventually acquiesced, turning to face the bulkhead and clasping his hands behind his back. Jim took Spock’s place, all but falling into the chair.

“You know, I never asked—what’s it like?”

“I urge you to be more specific.”

“You know,” Jim waved his hand in the air as if he could summon words from it. “Having…girl parts. I know you have to sit instead of stand in the bathroom and your pants probably feel a little looser, but are there other differences?”

Spock still faced the wall, and Jim was sort of glad because he’d unintentionally made this conversation awkward as hell.

“I function as I normally would. There are minute differences, but I find them to be of a private nature. In any case, you have identified the primary differences.”

“Well, that’s, um, interesting,” Jim said in what he hoped was an encouraging voice.

They elapsed into silence, Jim fidgeting with a pawn and Spock doing a great statue impression. Jim’s mind strayed into dangerous territory, staring at Spock’s back and lower, thinking about what Spock would look like naked. Naturally, this led him to start thinking about the simple solution to their problems, having sex. If it was a choice between death by accidental phasering or having hot interspecies sex, Jim was sure sex with him couldn’t be all bad for Spock. Though to be fair, Spock could easily stay locked in his quarters the entire time and thus Jim offering Spock sex when Spock clearly knew it was an option and had obviously dismissed it was a bad idea. But then, knowing Spock, maybe staying cooped up in his quarters for eleven days might be just slightly worse than sexing up his captain.

Jim steeled himself.

“Spock—I’m not affected by this mating thing.”

Spock turned around, a perplexed eyebrow raised. “Yes, and for that I am grateful.”

Well what did he mean by that? Was he glad that Jim wasn’t affected because he didn’t want Jim trying to hump his leg or was he just glad Jim didn’t have to supposedly suffer the same indignity that someone like, say, Bones currently did?

“When we first talked about this, you said that you wouldn’t have sex with someone if they weren’t aware of their actions.”

Spock’s perplexity turned into suspicion. “Yes, that is correct.”

“…and you’re not dumb, Spock, so you know what I’m offering.”

“Jim,” Spock said sharply, uncharacteristically starting a slow pace back and forth across the room. “I was aware of that alternative from the beginning. While it is true that, theoretically, you are endowed with the capacity to make a decision entirely of your free will, I also know that you are a loyal and caring man who would relieve a heavy burden from any member of this crew, let alone one borne by a close friend. In many respects, asking for or accepting aid of this kind is not unlike coercion.”

“Coercion? The sad part of this conversation is that I understand why you made that leap and that scares me because I wish I could yell at you more about how stupid it is.”

“Regardless of your opinion, it is never a good idea to introduce intercourse into a well-functioning friendship, let alone if one party of said friendship is human.”

This was certainly the oddest turn down for sex Jim had ever experienced. Jim’s lip quirked. “And with another half a human added in, I concede to the logic of weirdness.”

“I will stay in my quarters and employ more caution in my behavior, Captain.”

“You’re damn right you will. Right after I win this next chess game.”

Spock finally stopped pacing and appeared a million times more relaxed than he had when they’d arrived.

“Arrogance is unbecoming of you.”

*

Halfway through the following day, a crewman was apprehended near Spock’s door. To make matters worse, the man had last been conscious at the other end of the deck where Spock’s quarters were and had wandered away from the comm panel he’d been repairing. Jim subsequently ordered that all male crewmembers be posted at least one deck away from Spock. It looked like they’d have to arrange an emergency stopover at Starbase 14 instead of being able to wait out a transporter fix. Jim figured they could let all the men take a collective emergency leave until the problem was resolved. They were six days from the base, however, and Jim wondered just how much longer they could wait at this rate.

That evening, Jim sat at his desk, finishing up some late paperwork before he went over to Spock’s quarters. His communicator beeped and he picked it up distractedly.

“Kirk here.”

No one said anything. Instead, all Jim could hear was rustling like someone had accidentally hailed him from their pocket. He checked the display and froze when he saw it was Spock. Worried, Jim bolted out of his quarters and panicked fully when he saw that the posted security guard had been knocked out. Spock’s quarters were sealed, so Jim keyed in his override code and forced the doors open.

The scene he encountered would give him nightmare fuel for weeks. Three men were holding Spock down, a fourth attempting to unzip Spock’s pants. Spock’s shirt had been ripped from his body and now lay in a shredded heap at the foot of his bed. Spock was struggling against his attackers, putting up a pretty good fight but was losing momentum, weakened from prolonged effort. Spock’s left cheek was stained green from possibly being hit across the face.

Jim wasted no time in taking action. None of the men were security guards, and were thus unarmed. He pulled the first one off Spock and flipped him hard on his back. He easily picked off another holding down Spock’s arm, their attention not on Jim attacking them but mindlessly sticking to the goal of fucking Spock. Spock took his free arm and broke the grip of a third attacker as Jim neatly kicked the second one to the ground, delivering another kick to the first to make sure he stayed down. When Jim was done with that, Spock had already nerve pinched the last one. Jim pulled out his communicator.

“I need a security team to Spock’s quarters now.”

Spock had left the bed and was giving a nerve pinch to the other three groaning on the ground to keep them unconscious. Then there was silence save for heavy breathing. Spock picked up his ruined shirt, sent it through the waste disposal, and retrieved a new one from his wardrobe. Adrenaline pumped through Jim’s veins as he watched Spock right himself, and instead of the restless energy making him get angry at Spock or the world in general, it made him shake and feel sick with relief instead.

A minute or so later, three female security officers burst into the room, sizing up the situation in seconds.

“What should we do with them, Captain?” Lieutenant Beals asked, training a phaser on the four men piled on the floor, her faced lined with age and worry, which said a lot coming from a seasoned officer.

“Take them to the brig, but don’t report it just yet. We had these quarters locked down and I can’t be sure this wasn’t planned.”

“Yes, sir,” Beals said. Two nurses had arrived with stretchers and the guard who had been watching Spock’s quarters was standing dizzily to her feet. One of the nurses ran a dermal regenerator over Spock’s cheek and quietly asked him something—likely if he needed further medical assistance—but Spock shook his head. The guards and nurses managed to get all the men out within a minute.

“Orders, Captain?” Beals asked.

“I’ll confer with Mr. Spock. For now, I want all male crewmembers to be no less than two decks away from this room.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, leaving. Jim locked Spock’s quarters again and sagged against the door.

“How did this happen?” Jim asked, the words being scraped from his throat.

“The men were technicians and had the capability of overriding the system for a brief time.”

“This is impossible. How can they even sense you’re here? We have quarantine measures set up—the ship’s ventilation system is shut off from yours.”

“I believe that there is a unique factor involved. Kedities are not telepaths. It is possible that I may be unconsciously projecting a biological imperative that I cannot control, as my mind does not fully recognize or understand my new physiology.”

“So you’re, what, broadcasting ‘come hither?’”

“Essentially.”

Stupendous. Jim squashed down the urge to freak out and instead focused on getting Spock safe.

“We’ll have to relocate you because your quarters are too central to ship operations. We can set up a quarantine field in cargo bay D—”

“Jim,” Spock said, and Jim stopped at the soft, unsure sound of his voice. “Upon further review, I believe there is a solution.”

“Great, what is it?” Jim eagerly asked, hoping Spock would pull some miracle out of his ass.

“Does your offer of assistance still stand?”

Jim swallowed. “You’re not talking about me helping you learn colorful metaphors, are you?”

“No.”

“Spock—” Jim shook his head and ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I know what happened freaked you out, but we’ll do better, I promise.”

“Vulcans do not ‘freak out’, Captain,” Spock said, and Jim managed a tiny smile. “What you proposed is the logical solution. I initially rejected the idea simply based on propriety, not wishing to engage in intercourse when other alternatives were available. However, I have since realized that whatever my moral attitude on the parameters of friendship, there is a moral position I had not considered. My condition is not solely affecting me—it is affecting this entire crew. If I did not have my communicator on my person tonight…those men would have committed a crime. Even if they were not to be charged, they would suffer a guilty conscience. Imagine if you had not been immune, Jim.”

Jim shuddered. He’d be just as mindless an animal as anyone else. He could have…raped Spock. He couldn’t imagine living with that, no matter how much Spock forgave him. Or god, what if it had been Bones? Or Chekov?

“Okay,” Jim said. He didn’t know if he’d ever been so uninterested in sex in his life, and wasn’t that hilarious when he’d been getting off to Spock sex fantasies for a couple of days now.

Spock headed toward the bed.

“Whoa hold on, I’m not exactly in the mood. I mean, we should probably wait a while,” Jim said, eyeing the bed. He couldn’t stop picturing Spock on it, held down, helpless. He hardly ever saw Spock like that.

“It would be illogical to wait. The longer we delay, the more dangerous our situation becomes. Of course, if you have reconsidered, then we can reform our plan.”

Jim studied Spock. His skin was healed and his clothes were righted, but he still seemed disheveled, hands loose at his sides, clasping and unclasping, slightly shifting from left to right. Spock looked worn down, stripped away, nervous. Seeing that made Jim feel strangely calm. Sure, the situation was fucked up and this was not how he would ever picture his first time with Spock, but this would fix everything and really, Spock and Uhura had stayed friends after they’d dated, so their friendship should come out just fine.

“I haven’t reconsidered. You call the shots.”

Spock nodded resolutely, like he was about to fight some bad guys, and it was sort of cute.

“Lights to 5%,” Spock ordered. The light dimmed to where Jim could barely see the outline of furniture.

“Uh, isn’t this is a little dark?” Jim asked, squinting to see what Spock was doing.

“It is sufficient for our activities,” Spock said. Jim did a mental shrug and walked to the bed, starting to feel a little turned on now that he couldn’t even see the bed. He put one knee into the mattress, now able to see Spock unzipping his pants and lowering them. Jim followed his lead, shedding his shirt and pants, figuring that Vulcans might not understand the point of taking someone else’s clothes off. When Jim was completely naked and turned his attention to Spock, he saw that Spock had not actually taken his clothes off but instead had exposed just enough of ass just to accommodate Jim.

It was all wrong. Jim had been imagining this for the past couple of days, had maybe been subconsciously wanting it for much longer than that. He was about to have sex with Spock, which was at once endlessly odd, surreal, and mind-blowingly exciting. It should be fucking amazing with choirs singing and fireworks going off. Instead, he could barely see Spock in the dimness of the room. Spock was face down on the bed, pants pulled down, and giving off the air of this being the last thing he wanted in the universe. For god’s sake, even in the darkness of the room Jim could tell how on edge Spock was.

Jim ran a soothing hand over Spock’s shoulder. Spock flinched, and that broke Jim’s resolve.

“I can’t do this,” he said, sitting at the end of the bed. When he gained enough courage to peer over at Spock, Spock had righted himself, head bowed in what looked like defeat. Jim’s heart panged at the sight of his proud friend dragged so low into something he clearly didn’t want.

“I quite understand, Captain,” Spock said.

“No, you don’t” Jim said harshly, cutting off that line of bullshit. “When I said this was no problem, I meant it. I want to help you, but Spock…I’m not going to force you.”

“Jim—” Spock began in a small voice.

“We can set up a quarantine field, post some female security guards around it, keep the men to the upper decks of the ship. We’ll be at Starbase 14 in four days, so maybe we can hold out until then—”

“Jim, I wish to continue our previous actions.”

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head.

“Yeah, no. We’ll find another way.”

“I have been illogical,” Spock said, voice gaining strength as he went on. “This is not the ideal solution, but it is the most logical one at our disposal. You have offered yourself with no hesitancy and yet I return that generosity with resistance.”

“Spock,” Jim said quietly, sighing and scooting closer to Spock. He hesitantly lifted a hand and touched Spock’s shoulder. “I offered because I want you to be safe and because you are definitely not the last person on Earth I’d be willing to have sex with. In fact, you rate pretty high up on the list of people I would have sex with.”

Spock sighed and leaned slightly into Jim’s touch. “Would it help if I were to confess that I find you physically attractive?”

All the remaining tension whooshed out of Jim and he ran his hand behind Spock’s shoulder and rubbed small circles into Spock’s warm back.

“We’re friends, right?” Jim said, not really asking but simply stating a fact. “We’ll just…know each other a little better.”

Spock made a small scoffing noise, and Jim grinned.

“I find that to be quite a leap.”

With a lightness he didn’t feel, Jim stopped rubbing and instead pulled gently on Spock’s back, urging Spock forward until their lips met. It was a perfunctory touch, and when Jim drew back, he licked his lips.

“See? First step.”

Jim ordered the lights to 40%, giving the room a brighter but still dim atmosphere. The next order of business was getting Spock out of his clothes. Jim caught Spock’s lips again, introducing a little tongue in the mix. Spock sighed and opened his mouth wider, carefully kissing back like he was carefully conducting an experiment. It was sweet, but they could do better than that.

Jim released Spock’s mouth and yanked his uniform shirt over his head. Wrapping his arms around Spock, he held him tight, naked chest to naked chest, and reclaimed Spock’s mouth. This time the kiss was pure heat, Jim twining his tongue with Spock’s, moaning at how good it felt. Spock seemed to shift into a higher gear, kissing with a new fervor as he moved a hand to the back of Jim’s head to hold him in place as he plundered Jim’s mouth. Now this was more like Jim’s fantasies.

Jim lowered a hand to Spock’s pants, intending to get them off, but Spock released his mouth and stopped his progress. Jim suddenly understood the full extent of Spock’s hesitancy. Jim didn’t know how he’d act in this situation, but he’d be willing to bet that even he would feel strange letting someone see him without his dick. Jim ran a considering hand over Spock’s abdomen, fingers whispering over the thick line of hair there, traveling up and across Spock’s chest. It was pretty unique being less hairy than his bedmate.

“Don’t worry; there’s no mistaking you for a woman here.”

“I understand your meaning, though I am, technically, a female,” Spock mumbled, apparently distracted by Jim’s hand caressing his chest. Jim gave him a shark-like grin and flicked a thumb over his right nipple. Spock let out a huff of air, and Jim calculated how he could get Spock to start making some seriously turned on noises. He started by lowering his mouth to the flicked nipple and teasing it with his tongue. Spock’s breathing hitched, so Jim counted that as an improvement and moved to the other nipple and sucked it into his mouth. A few long seconds of that passed before he moved on, kissing his way to Spock’s neck, breathing in the trace of asenoi oil and what might be cucumber, or at least the Vulcan equivalent of cucumber.

Tentatively, he moved to the front of Spock’s pants, and this time Spock didn’t stop him, possibly too engrossed with Jim gently sucking his neck to care. Jim peeled Spock’s pants and underwear off, Spock helping him along while making sure Jim’s mouth never strayed too far from his throat. Spock kept his legs closed, though, and Jim moved upward and latched onto Spock’s ear, licking it from lobe to pointed tip, feeling Spock shuddering delicately below him.

A pro at multitasking and subterfuge, Jim sneaked a hand over Spock’s hip and slowly lowered it until he was on the inside of Spock’s lower thigh, kneading slowly and getting Spock used to something down there. Jim finally pulled his head back to look questioningly at Spock as he ran his hand higher up the inside of Spock’s thigh. Spock, a quick study, nodded in a barely perceptible manner, then eased his legs open, letting Jim finally see what was causing all this trouble.

Spock’s vagina looked different than Jim had expected. From what he remembered of xenobiology, Vulcan females weren’t that different from human females, so Spock must have the makeup of Kedite genitals. There were no folds of skin, just a light dusting of pubic hair. The skin was flushed light green.

“The vulva of an adult Keidite female is smooth with no labia. The urethra and the vagina are combined, utilizing one vaginal opening.”

How practical of them, Jim thought, a little disappointed. He’d had a half-formed plan to go down on Spock, drive him fucking insane, but there was no clit to be found. Jim gave a mental shrug, hoping that Keidite women felt sexual pleasure at all. Hell, for all Jim knew, there was a good reason the Keidites needed a plant to help them breed—maybe it hurt like hell for them to have sex and few would chose to do it unless plant jizz forced a male on them. Spock would probably grin and bear it like the stubborn bastard he was, so Jim resigned himself to checking Spock every two seconds to make sure he was into this.

Watching Spock carefully, Jim gently slid one finger into him.

Spock cried out.

“Oh god, are you okay?” Jim asked, taking his finger back in an instant.

“I am unharmed, Jim,” Spock said, eyes wide open and pupils dilated.

“Then what the hell was that about?”

“I must apologize for not warning you.”

“Oh god, it hurts, doesn’t it? We can get some local anesthesia for this or something—”

“Jim. I am not in pain.”

“Oh. Then I’ll repeat myself: What the hell was that about?”

“The vaginal tract of a Keidite female is lined with small bundles of nerves. Each one of those bundles is similar in function to one human clitoral gland.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me that on the inside, you’ve got a whole bunch of clits?” Jim said, mouth going dry.

“Essentially, yes. You recall my mentioning that I have difficulty controlling my telepathy? Urination is a simple matter, as my excretory system is mostly my own. However, I find myself unable to control more nuanced functions of my new anatomy.”

“So basically, your brain’s not hooked up right to your new junk, thus you can’t control your reaction to pleasure.”

“Yes. I am sorry that I did not inform you earlier of this inconvenience.”

Inconvenience? More like the best thing ever. Jim smiled assuredly at Spock, moving his hand back into position at Spock’s opening.

“You’re apologizing for the wrong thing.”

“You have yet to witness the full implications of this revelation. It is a rather unsavory display.”

Jim grinned playfully, easing his finger back into Spock. Spock moaned loudly, an arm lashing up and gripping Jim’s shoulder.

“Sounds like fun.”

If Jim had been uninterested before, he was lit up like the Fourth of July now. He carefully pushed his finger in and out of Spock, feeling the tight, impossibly hot clamp, the little bumps inside that were doing their very best to make Spock come out of his skin. Spock was moaning, writhing, trying to push down and skitter away at the same time. Sometimes he would let out a keening cry, biting on his lip to try to keep the noises at bay but failing utterly. Jim almost felt sorry that Spock was unable to control what he was feeling, but that was trumped by the fact that Jim had never seen anything so wanton in his entire life. Sure, he’d been with a couple of screamers, but while their cries were usually fake and obnoxious, Spock’s were genuine and seemed to have a direct path to Jim’s cock.

When Jim added a second finger, Spock’s back arched right off the bed and he practically yelled. God, what was Spock going to do when it was Jim’s dick in there? The thought made Jim press down on his straining erection with his free hand, joining in Spock’s groans.

Spock was comfortably stretched already, so Jim kept up with the finger fucking for just a few more seconds, mostly doing it so he could watch Spock fall apart without falling apart himself, wanting to remember exactly what Spock looked like in pure ecstasy. He was entranced by Spock’s mouth, how it opened and closed as he struggled for air before calling out again, the softness of his parted lips. Jim had never realized how amazing Spock looked. It was sort of a simple fact before, like knowing that a work of art looked pretty. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about how Spock looked underneath him, how he couldn’t breathe when he looked at Spock.

Chasing away these increasingly confusing thoughts, Jim pulled his fingers out and positioned himself at Spock’s entrance. He looked at Spock questioningly, waiting for the go ahead. Spock hesitated briefly, eyebrows drawn together like he was steeling himself for some test of endurance. Finally he nodded, and Jim pushed.

Hot. Tight. Jim let out a heartfelt groan as he sank into Spock’s body. Spock cried out like something was being ripped from him, raising his legs upward and clenching around Jim with a staggering amount of strength. When Jim was buried all the way in, Spock quivering around him, Jim leaned forward and kissed Spock.

“You okay?” Jim whispered against Spock’s lips, trying not to move.

Spock panted, “You are larger than I had anticipated.”

“Mmph, so you’re saying you’re having trouble taking my big, thick cock?”

Spock managed to give him an unimpressed look. Jim waggled his eyebrows.

“You neglected to ask what size I anticipated.”

Jim chuckled. “You’re the anti-dirty talker. You’re supposed to be telling me how big I am, how good it feels to be stretched wide by my cock.”

“Forgive me. Your penis is enormous. I am astonished that it was able to fit. Perhaps it is not too late to employ local anesthesia.”

Jim laughed delightedly, almost enjoying their conversation more than the feel of Spock clenched around him, all this foreplay. Jim could feel it when Spock relaxed, letting the edges of his mouth curl upwards in that half-smile he wore when he was pleased. Jim eased out and in, wiping the amusement from Spock’s face and replacing it with intense pleasure and he moaned loudly.

Things quickly became urgent again as Jim began fucking Spock slowly, building up a firm rhythm. Each time Jim thrust in, Spock moaned deliriously, holding onto Jim’s back like he was drowning. His eyes were closed and his face was turned toward his pillow, breathing damply into it. Jim was nearly matching Spock’s heightened frenzy, eyes locked on where his cock moved in and out of Spock, pumping hard enough now to make Spock’s body rock back with each stroke. Suddenly, Spock let out a scream that built in intensity like a siren, bucking his hips crazily and choking on air, coming. A few seconds from following, Jim gasped out in shock as Spock propelled himself backwards, letting Jim slip out of him. Jim groaned at the loss, tightly gripping his leaking dick so he didn’t spontaneously come. Jim breathed slowly, eventually able to control himself and regain his senses. He turned his attention to Spock and saw that Spock was sitting upright at the head of the bed, his legs closed again and still coming, hips jerking as powerful spasms lit through him. Jim gripped himself again, feeling like he was strangling his dick, but knew that he would come from the sight alone if he didn’t control himself.

He didn’t think it could happen, but Jim was irrationally jealous of Spock’s vagina. Christ, if Jim had that, he would never leave his quarters.

Gradually Spock stilled, hair in disarray and taking in big gulps of air, eyes blown wide and appearing almost lost. Jim crawled toward Spock and touched his knee. Spock looked at him with slightly unfocused eyes.

“I—I apologize. The intensity was beyond my ability to control.”

“It’s okay,” Jim assured, moving to sit beside Spock. He didn’t quite know what to do besides sit there, because he bet Spock felt weird enough without Jim cradling him in his arms like he was a virgin being deflowered. He settled on pressing his shoulder against Spock’s in silent, manly camaraderie.

“I am not sure of my refractory period, as I never made a second attempt immediately after orgasm.”

“You’ll probably be the same as most girls everywhere.”

“And that is?”

“You know, ready to go right after, maybe with a little wait time but—was Uhura different?”

“I would not know, as we have never had intercourse.”

Jim whipped his head around to stare at Spock. “You mean you dated Uhura and never had sex with her?”

“I have not, Captain,” Spock said in such an innocent and unconcerned voice that Jim started to suspect something.

“Spock, have you ever had sex with anyone?”

“Negative.”

God, Jim was going to hyperventilate. “You’re telling me that this is your first time?”

“That is correct,” Spock said, still in that completely rational and unassuming tone.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I did not think it relevant.”

“’Not relevant?’ Spock, it’s pretty damn important.”

“Would this information had changed your mind had your known it prior to our coupling?”

Great, he was getting the logic treatment in bed. “Of course not. It’s just that I like to know things like that.”

“Vulcans do not view virginity the same way humans do. In fact, there is no word in the Vulcan language for virginity. The concept is individualized, some viewing virginity as the act of penetration while others view it as achieving orgasm.”

“Well, it’s important to me. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not that poetic about virginity, but I still think your first time should at least be something memorable, and having to fuck to stop a mating fever isn’t my idea of momentous.”

“You still believe that I am here against my will?” Spock asked, sounding almost surprised.

“Your first time shouldn’t be because you have no better choice. It should be the best choice.”

Spock went silent. Jim looked away, awkward as hell. He jumped slightly when he felt Spock touch his hand. Spock lifted the hand, running his fingers over Jim’s palm, and Jim shuddered a little, surprised at how good it felt.

“If you had been anyone else, I would have chosen the stricter quarantine procedure before even considering this measure.”

Jim’s heart swelled. “Well, you say that now, a few orgasms later.”

“Pliant as I may be, the sentiment is there regardless. Are you ready to proceed?”

“I can hammer nails in with this, so whenever you are.”

“I find it highly doubtful that you could use your erect penis as a blunt instrument,” Spock said, customary mocking tone giving way to curiosity and interest. His hand hovered inches above the subject of their conversation. “May I?”

“Spock, believe me when I say that you don’t need to ask.”

Spock nodded, curling his fingers around Jim’s cock, giving a nice, long stroke. Jim jerked in Spock’s grasp and moaned, eyes falling shut automatically. Spock’s hand was big and strong, jerking Jim slowly, possibly studying the damn thing. Jim cracked one eye open and groaned when he saw how hungry Spock looked as his eyes followed the movements of his hand. Jim suddenly wanted Spock to devour his cock, suck him dry, but unfortunately he’d shoot with the first puff of air from Spock’s mouth, so he reluctantly pulled Spock’s hand away.

“Show’ll be over too quick,” Jim said apologetically, but Spock didn’t seem concerned as he was busy getting on his knees and straddling Jim’s lap.

Before Jim could wrap his head around what Spock was going for, Spock grabbed his cock and guided it inside him again like he’d done this a hundred times before. Jim could barely hold off from coming right then and there. This time when Spock moaned, he did it in Jim’s ear, a fucking surround sound of holy fucking shit, that’s hot. Spock was still for only a moment before his hips started to do a little rock and roll beat right there.

Maybe it was the position, maybe it was the fact that Spock had already come a few times, maybe it was confidence gained from their earlier conversation, but Spock was no longer laying back and simply taking it. He was completely in control now, rising and falling with purpose, one arm pressed against the wall by Jim’s head and the other holding Jim’s shoulder, pinning him there. Jim just stared, completely overwhelmed and finding that he really, really, really loved Spock dominating him.

“Fuck,” Jim gasped.

He moved his legs so they were planted on the bed and fucked up into Spock. Spock lost some of his momentum at that, emitting a strangled cry each time Jim pounded into him, lowering his head to Jim’s shoulder and gasping impossibly hot, moist breath into Jim’s neck. Jim’s legs quickly tired from the strain and he let Spock take over. Spock renewed his efforts, grinding on Jim’s cock, his desperate moans increasing in volume as he approached another orgasm. Jim kept his eyes open, realizing that Spock was not looking at Jim directly. In fact, Jim was pretty sure Spock hadn’t look at him when they were fucking earlier either, and for some reason that bothered Jim. It was like Spock was trying to hide, even as he was up there essentially calling the shots.

“Hey,” Jim said, gently pushing on Spock’s face until he had to look at him. “Stop holding back. Let go, baby.”

Apparently, Spock had been holding back. Jim had almost forgotten that Spock was strong enough to snap him in half, but was instantly reminded of this crucial fact when Spock pulled Jim from the wall and onto his back without slipping out and with the ease of repositioning a pillow. Spock lowered his body closer to Jim’s, held himself up with both hands braced on the bed, and slammed down. Jim howled. Spock was fucking him like the Enterprise was a minute from self-destructing and he wanted to come before he died. Again and again he pounded himself on Jim’s dick, so wet now that Jim could smell him and could hear the wet slap of skin against skin as Spock rode him.

The best part was that Spock was looking at him now, eyes burning with intensity. Jim felt flayed open by look of naked want on Spock’s face, feeling like he was being stripped bare and shivering under it. Jim was almost there, and he was almost afraid to come because he might just die from it, unable to breathe properly and sure that people weren’t meant to experience this much pleasure. As he felt the familiar beginnings of orgasm, Jim decided that dying was just fine by him because Spock was coming, practically quaking on top of Jim, shouting.

“Spock,” Jim called out, wild and wrecked, coming. Spock made helpless noises against Jim’s sternum as Jim bucked over and over, filling Spock up with hot come. Eventually Jim spent all he had, but now it felt almost too much because Spock was still coming, was pressing Jim painfully into the bed, voice gone hoarse from shouting.

Finally, Spock was done. He lay on top of Jim as the both tried to catch their breaths. Jim felt Spock shivering like he was cold, even though the room was boiling hot. Realizing that he was crushing Jim, Spock groaned a little as the pulled off and repositioned himself so that he was half draped over Jim. Jim had never been a big cuddler, but after a fucking session like that, he wanted to cling to Spock like a second skin, wanted to keep that closeness.

The longer they lay there, the more awkward things became. How exactly do you act after having one of the best fucks of your life from your best friend? He couldn’t exactly kiss and whisper dirty things to Spock (though that did sound appealing), so Jim settled for a lame,

“There, that wasn’t bad at all, was it?”

Spock separated a little and sat up on one elbow to look down at Jim. Jim pillowed his head in one arm, affecting an air of calmness.

“We should be successful,” Spock agreed.

Something occurred to Jim and his eyes widened. “You didn’t think to take birth control, did you?”

Spock blushed slightly at the implication. “Unnecessary. My ovaries do not contain egg cells for fertilization.”

“Well, you win the prize for the last sentence I expected to hear today,” Jim said, feeling a small knot loosen in his chest. “Though being your baby’s daddy wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen. Our children would be both smart and beautiful.”

“I will utilize the bathroom facilities first, if you are amenable.”

Jim furrowed his eyebrows at a note of detachment in Spock’s voice. “It’s your bathroom—go nuts.”

Spock left the bed, and Jim got one nice look at Spock’s bare ass as he bent over to retrieve his clothes, then Spock went into the bathroom, the door shutting with a hiss that seemed like punctuation. The room suddenly got colder. So much for post-coital cuddles.

Jim sat up on the bed, feeling like he was in some sort of waking dream. Did he just have mind blowing sex with Spock? Jim smiled a bit dopily. Yep, he’d fucked Spock all right. He could still smell sex in the air and if he wasn’t so out of it, he’d want another go right then and there from the surge of arousal that thought put into him. He could hear the sonic shower powering down, and, stumbling around with all the grace of a newborn giraffe, he blindly groped for his clothes. A minute later Spock breezed from the bathroom, every hair perfectly in place, uniform pressed, and to top it all off, a neutral expression like he expected to go back to work that very minute. Jim sat dumbly at the edge of Spock’s bed, naked with his uniform over his crotch, and felt remarkably like a used whore.

Spock’s nostrils flared slightly and he ordered the ventilation system on.

“You may make use of my bathroom,” Spock said, not unkindly, and Jim softened a little.

“Thanks.”

Spock was stripping the bed linens as Jim entered the bathroom, and Jim tried not to feel disappointed. What, was Spock supposed to sleep in sheets with sweat and come all over them? Jim shook his head and looked in the mirror, amazed at how fucked out he looked. There were no marks, but Jim’s skin was flushed and glistening with sweat and his hair looked like a chicken had run through it. Shrugging, Jim hopped in the sonic shower, sighing contentedly as the familiar musical hum filled his ears and the gentle vibrations cleansed his skin.

When he finished, he reentered Spock’s room, and it was like nothing had happened. Spock was seated at his desk writing on a PADD and the room looked and smelled like it always did. Jim straightened his uniform shirt and shyly went to sit in front of Spock. Spock looked up with a serene expression, placing the PADD down in deference to his captain.

“Well, I guess now we have to see if it…took,” Jim said.

“Yes. There is that possibility.”

Jim wanted to ask what possibility, but then it dawned on him—this might not have worked at all. After all, Jim wasn’t a Keidite. Obviously Spock understood that, so why had this not occurred to Jim before now? And also, it said more about Spock’s bravery that he knew it might not work but gave it a try anyway. Jim hoped like hell this wasn’t all for nothing, because he didn’t want to have that kind of guilt on his shoulders and still be terrified over Spock’s safety.

Jim’s communicator was still in his pocket, so he pulled it out and commed sickbay.

“McCoy here.”

“Hey Bones, I need you to come by Spock’s quarters.”

“…the hobgoblin isn’t there, right?”

“Nope, not at all,” Jim said breezily. Spock frowned at him in disapproval, and Jim smirked.

“On my way,” Bones said.

“You should have informed him of my presence in the event that I am still in heat. There is a 42.7% chance my symptoms have been alleviated, a 48.8% chance my symptoms have only abated momentarily, and a 8.5% chance they have been heightened.”

Jim felt his brain short out at ‘abated momentarily.’ Did that mean that there was a chance they had to have sex again? True, it would mean more awkwardness and he’d have to put Spock through this again, but then, he’d get to fuck Spock again. He started to get hard, just as Bones walked in.

Bones looked at Spock, Spock looked evenly back at Bones, and Bones let out the most relieved sigh Jim had ever heard. “Thank fucking god.”

*

Bones checked over Spock and grumbled about what a pain in the ass Spock was while Spock glibly returned his threats of neutering (“I believe the term is ‘spaying,’, Doctor.”) He declared Spock healthy and normal. Or, well, as normal as any guy with a newly commissioned vagina could expect.

Jim relaxed for the first time in days, lifting the quarantine and enjoying Spock being back at his post, greeting him every day and being his usual Vulcan self. The explanation given for Spock’s sudden cure was an experimental serum that Spock had developed on his own. No one really questioned it, not even Bones, who Jim honestly felt was not looking a gift horse in the mouth on this one. Only Jim, Bones, and Chapel knew about Spock’s vagina, but that was okay because it would be back to normal soon and maybe then things would truly go back to how they were before.

But then, Jim wasn’t really kidding himself. For all Jim’s talk that sex between them wouldn’t change things, things sort of did change, just in ways Jim hadn’t anticipated. For one, Spock kept himself busy, citing that he had duties to catch up on and a dick to get back, but Spock had been busy before and had always managed to make time to eat dinner with Jim. Jim sort of let that one slide because Spock had a right to feel awkward so soon after what happened, and it would only prove to be a problem if this behavior continued once Spock got his junk back and the dust from the fallout settled.

The one thing Jim couldn’t help was his own issues. He now knew what Spock (mostly) looked like naked, knew the sounds he might make during sex and the expression on his face as he came. It was pretty hard acting normally when he’d experienced something he’d been fantasizing about for a while. Jim spent half his time fighting down a hard on during work hours and in his free time his hand was constantly glued to his dick. Yet that wasn’t even the worst of it. Jim had been bowled over by lust before. Maybe not with this focused intensity, but he knew what it was like to constantly want to fuck someone.

But Jim missed Spock, which was crazy since he saw him every day. He couldn’t even put it all off on not hanging out with Spock because he’d been apart from Spock for longer before. No, Jim spent long hours thinking of how amazing Spock was, how perfect and awesome he was. He spent even longer hours imagining what would happen if he showed up at Spock’s quarters and just kissed him. He was starting to become obsessed with Spock, wanting to touch him, to sleep next to him.

It was insane, and Jim was helpless against it. He had himself a full-blown crush on Spock now, all thanks to one incredibly amazing night of sex. Well, to be fair, that had only been the catalyst. Jim knew the difference between lust and affection, and what he was feeling had left the realm of lust plausibility light years behind. Wanting to have sex with Spock again was one thing—wanting to send him flowers was an entire galaxy apart.

Jim was nervous as hell the day Spock was to implement the transporter vagina fix. Only Spock, Jim, and Bones were there. His anxiety proved to be unfounded when Spock stepped from the transporter, a satisfied expression on his face. After Bones gave him a physical (“I’ve never been so happy to see Spock’s penis in my life.”), Spock was completely back to normal. Jim invited him over for a celebratory chess game, and Spock readily agreed, easing Jim’s fear that Spock would continue avoiding him.

“You know, it’s kind of funny,” Jim said, taking one of Spock’s knights. “After all that happened, I’ve never actually seen you naked.”

“May we change the subject?” Spock asked tersely, and Jim shut his mouth unhappily. He really shouldn’t feel so upset that Spock didn’t offer to give him a peek and instead seemed intent on never talking about what happened, but there it was. After Spock left, Jim curled up on his bed, wishing he could so easily forget everything as Spock could.

*

Two weeks later they took a much-needed shore leave on Risa, a layover of five days. Jim allowed the luxury, feeling like his men deserved it after what they’d been through. To be entirely fair, it was also a selfish move, because he planned on talking Spock into taking some leave time and getting in some good bonding on warm sandy beaches. Maybe he’d be able to talk Spock into swimming and Jim could ogle Spock’s bare chest.

A day after the first rotation left, Uhura commed Jim while he was chatting with Sulu in the mess hall.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Uhura demanded, managing to bore holes into Kirk through the handheld screen.

Sulu whistled low and took his tray to sit next to Chekov. So much for guys sticking together.

“I think this chewing out would go better if I knew why I was being chewed out.”

“I might understand why Spock didn’t tell me, because he’s emotionally detached by default, but I thought you’d at least come to me about it.”

“Uhura, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Spock, going to New Vulcan.”

“What?” Jim asked sharply. Uhura stilled, the frustration gone from her face.

“He didn’t tell you. That actually makes sense.”

“Stop being vague and tell me what’s going on.”

She sighed. “I just got the form. One six month sabbatical leave request, approved by Admiral Pike.”

“That fucking bastard,” Jim said, punching his fist on the table. Six months? “He went over my head for this. Why the hell did Pike approve it?”

“Technically, I shouldn’t have gotten this notice until tomorrow, but I have a feeling that Pike forwarded it to us early. Looks like he doesn’t like what’s going on either.”

“I’m going to talk to Spock,” Jim said, standing up.

“He’s left the ship.”

“Left?”

Uhura looked agitated. “Under an hour ago. Captain, do you have an idea why Spock is doing this?”

Oh, he had an idea all right. Jim sat back down, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Sort of, though I wouldn’t have guessed he’d flee over it.”

“Do I want to know what this is about?”

Jim shifted guiltily. “Probably not. I’m guessing he didn’t leave an address where he was staying?”

“I’ve already tried comming him, he’s not answering. I’m going to scan the planet for that rat bastard and find out whatever I can.”

“You do that. I’m beaming to the surface; send me his location as soon as you find it, all right?”

“Aye, Captain.”

The closer he got to the transporter room, the angrier he became. Why was Spock leaving him? Six months was a long god damn time, especially when he didn’t even tell Jim he was leaving. Spock had seemed perfectly fine up until now. This was so unlike Spock, running away instead of facing whatever his problem was. Spock was probably the bravest person he knew. He wondered if he was being unfair and maybe this was some kind of family emergency or something, but Spock would have asked Jim for leave. No, Jim was the problem, he just knew it. Jim nearly fell over in the corridor when he was hit with a reason.

Did Spock know how Jim felt about him?

God, it made sense. Spock didn’t like that his captain had a crush on him, so he left in disgust. But no, that couldn’t be it, could it? Spock wasn’t that kind of guy. Hell, he was nice enough to Chapel even though he clearly found her feelings for him entirely unwanted, and if he could be gracious to her, then he could easily find it in himself to be kind to Jim, his best friend. Jim was getting himself some answers, that was for sure.

*

Jim stood in front of the hotel Uhura had found Spock in. She’d also grimly sent him the passenger list of a transport vessel that was to pass the Vulcan colony, Spock’s name bolded. The ship was to leave early the next morning. Spock had been planning all this, and Jim stuffed the hurt down in his chest as he marched imperiously to the reception desk.

“I need to see a guest at your hotel, a Mr. Spock.”

“First name?” the man asked in a fake, chipper voice.

“It starts with an ‘s’, but hell if either of us could pronounce it.”

The receptionist checked and giggled as he spotted Spock’s name. “Yes, yes, that is quite a tongue teaser. He’s in room—oh dear. I’m sorry, Sir, he has specifically asked that no one disturb him.”

“Oh really?” Jim asked, leaning forward on the counter threateningly. The man tilted back, a smile still plastered on his face as if it never left. “That guest is my first officer, and I’m his captain. I demand to see him.”

“Ah yes! If this is an emergency situation, then by all means.”

“’Emergency situation?’” Jim repeated, infusing the words with enough scorn to make even Cupcake flinch. “That is my first officer. If I want to be an organ grinder and need a monkey stand-in, then that’s what he’ll do. He’ll see me on my order.”

“There must be a mistake then, because the official record lists him as ‘inactive’.”

The man’s hand flew over the screen and Jim cursed internally. Damn that fucking asshole. Of course he’d be able to go inactive that fast what with the Federation bending over backwards for the Vulcan colony. They’d probably let Spock return in the middle of a red alert if he wanted. Oh, it was on, and when Jim got a hold of that Vulcan he was going to—

“No, it looks to be official, that’s strange.”

“Ah, no I suppose it’s not. I sort of let it slip who is transferring and leaving the ship what with all the missions clouding my mind.”

“Oh that is certainly understandable. Should I leave Mr. Spock a note?”

“Yeah, tell him ‘remember the Kobayashi Maru.’”

Because Jim Kirk didn’t believe in a no-win scenario.

It was laughably easy to leave the hotel, find an employee entrance, hack into the hotel’s security and get inside the main kitchens. He had to duck behind counters and make sure no one saw the captain of the Enterprise snooping in a hotel kitchen, but compared to breaking out of a Klingon warbird with nothing but a piece of wire and almost naked save for a pair of pants, this was almost fun.

He spotted a console against a wall, waited until the coast was clear, and went about hacking into the hotel’s room service list. Spock had no room service scheduled, which would probably be true his entire stay, so Jim looked at the serving carts going out and his eyes caught on an attractive array of desserts. Calling up the dishes and where they were headed, he re-routed the cart to Spock’s room, mentally apologizing to whoever would have to wait longer for their desserts. A quick shuffle and he was under the cart just in time for an employee to come in, check the schedule, and wheel Jim straight up to Spock‘s room.

When they arrived, Jim couldn’t hear anything. The employee left the cart in the middle of the room, assuming that the guest had, in fact, been expecting it. When the door slid shut behind them, Jim lifted up the cloth and looked around. The bathroom door’s light was on, so Jim waited patiently until Spock emerged, rolling from the cart and to his feet with a flourish.

“Jim,” Spock said, startled. “I had hoped that your message from the front desk would have a different interpretation.”

“You know, there is another interpretation. I’m more pissed now than I was at my disciplinary hearing and you’re being twice as annoying,” Jim said in a sweet voice, barely containing his anger.

“Do not be angry with me,” Spock said quietly, standing loosely to attention. Damn him, just damn him. It was hard to be pissed at Spock when he looked like a kid caught stealing candy at the store, somehow giving off the appearance of his ears drooping.

“Can I be hurt instead? Spock,” Jim said, stepping closer to Spock. “What the hell, man? We’re best friends and you couldn’t even leave me a note?”

“I was going to conduct a lengthy missive after a rest and meditation.”

“Oh that’s just dandy,” Jim said, instantly fed up again. “Why rush? I’m sure you can fit a manicure and massage in before getting around to it. It’s not like it’s important or anything.”

“I did not intend to hurt you, Jim,” Spock said, so earnestly that Jim couldn’t help but believe him.

“Intended or not, this is pretty fucked up. Look, why are you leaving? I could understand if it was a week or two, but six months? Is it family? Some secret Vulcan ceremony?”

“My reason for leaving is difficult to explain.”

“You’d better start talking or it’ll be difficult pulling my boot from your ass.”

Spock wandered over to the large window that covered an entire wall, looking out over the picture-perfect beach below. His face was shadowed with some deep concern.

“I would not have chosen to tell you this in person. I am leaving because I am…emotionally compromised.”

Those words instantly brought back memories of being nearly choked to death, and Jim blanched.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” Jim asked, blunt. Spock stiffened then relaxed again as if remembering that he had no energy to give to the effort.

“In some ways, yes.”

It was like a punch to the gut. If Spock had been more angry, Jim might have been able to work with that, but Spock looked depressed, couldn’t look at Jim directly, couldn’t summon the energy to fight anything.

“God, whatever it is, I’m sorry, Spock,” Jim said, voice small and scratchy, so different than what he wanted to come out. He wanted to sound grand and convincing, but instead just sounded pathetic. Spock actually flinched.

“Apologies are unnecessary. You are not at fault—you are merely the motivation behind my insufficiency.”

Jim relaxed a little. Spock didn’t know about Jim’s feelings and was instead getting upset over something he thought he’d done. This Jim could deal with.

“Then what is it?”

“It is a highly complicated matter—”

“Look, I’m not a Vulcan, so I don’t have two hundred some odd years to wait around for an answer. I’m human; I’ve got half of that and therefore half the patience to wait around for you to just spill it.”

Spock hesitated before nodding in acceptance, straightening to his full height like good posture and a ready stance would help him get through anything.

“I find myself incapable of putting what happened between us out of my mind.”

Jim couldn’t help saying, “You mean the hot sex.”

“Jim,” Spock said reproachfully, and Jim held up both hands in the universal ‘I yield’ gesture. “You said that night that our friendship would easily be able to transcend whatever occurred between us. You have abided by this statement accordingly. I, however, have changed.”

“Changed?” Jim croaked.

“I have not meditated in days. My associational reading is norm minus three. My reaction time is down thirteen percent. I am no longer content with our friendship, and that is unfair to you.”

Jim felt like crawling under the bed and hiding. It felt like every other disappoint in Jim’s life. Eventually, everyone left him, everyone lost interest.

“So, what, the spark’s gone in our friendship? Who could have guessed that a vagina would come between us?”

“Jim,” Spock said, the severity in his voice stopping Jim, but it was Spock’s eyes finally looking at him that made him listen. “I am not content because I want more. I have wanted more for quite some time.”

Well, that sure as hell shut Jim up. He could only stare as Spock continued.

“I am unable to look at you without remembering what you looked like in ecstasy, what my name sounded like issuing from your lips in passion. My feelings are shameful and alarming in their intensity. I am leaving because I need control and I need to distance myself from you so that you will have time to process this information. Then after that, if I am fortunate and you are generous, you might forgive me for this trespass, for not disclosing how I felt before we became intimate.”

Jim could hardly breathe, so tight was his chest. He just wanted to cross the long distance between them, tackle Spock to the bed and show just how generous and forgiving he could be, but this was important and if he was honest with himself, he was still sort of hurt.

“It would take you six months, though? That’s a long time for me, Spock.”

“I was aware. However, six months is not too long when seeing it as a reparation of a friendship. I realize that it would be hard on you, but six months is not forever.”

Isn’t forever. Jim remembered a few months ago when they were at a conference and he couldn’t see or speak to Spock for three days because he was constantly in intense meetings about the Vulcan colony and no communication devices were allowed where Spock was. It had felt like forever, and he’d been surprised at how much he hated it and how he couldn’t just shrug it off. Throughout the days he’d feel like he was missing something. He’d think of a joke Spock would roll his eyes at or an observation about this or that ambassador and would feel lost when he realized that there was no Spock around to tell them to. The worst part was at the end of the day when there was no one to distract him and he was alone in his quarters, wishing he could just talk to Spock about nothing.

Spock had his head bowed. Jim walked right up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. Spock all but jumped, surprised that Jim was this close after that revelation.

“You’re right. Friends can get through that. I know if Bones left for six months, I’d miss him like crazy and then spend the first week he’s back talking his ear off. But Spock, by your logic, I’m not your friend, because I can’t be without you that long.”

“Perhaps I can return in half that time,” Spock said, almost desperately, like Jim was torturing him, breaking him.

“You’re not getting it,” Jim said incredulously, grabbing Spock by both shoulders and making Spock look right at him. “I missed you when you had to stay quarantined in your quarters all day, and I still saw you in the evening. Hell, as pathetic and sappy as it sounds, I miss you when you first start walking away. I’m not going to let you fuck off to Vulcan because it’s illogical.”

“Illogical,” Spock said softly.

“Yes. You’re leaving because you think your feelings will go away or be less bothersome, but you see, I don’t know about Vulcans, but when humans love someone and they don’t get to see them for a long time, they do the opposite and cling harder than ever when they get them in their arms again.”

Spock looked floored, like Jim had turned into a whole different species before his eyes.

“Love?”

Jim blushed deeply, trying to deflect. “You know, have romantical feelings and stuff. Just, stay.”

Spock stared at Jim some more, then took Jim’s hands from his shoulders and held them close to his own chest. “Are you certain?”

Jim pretended he was thinking hard. Spock took it seriously, waiting tensely. Jim rolled his eyes, swooped in, and kissed Spock once, pulling back to grin roguishly at him.

“I’d just stow away and go with you to New Vulcan anyway.”

“You would not,” Spock countered in a faraway voice, half invested in the conversation and half transfixed in being close to Jim.

“Fine. But I’d coincidentally take myself a sabbatical as well. Ambassador Spock would house me. Maybe he’d treat me right.”

“That is illogical. Not only are we the same person, but I am younger and more virile.”

Jim laughed. “Oh, you stud!”

“I meant that I am younger with more energy and strength,” Spock said, flushing an adorable light green.

Jim stepped away from Spock, delighted when Spock seemed to lean toward him like a flower following the sun. Jim went over to the dessert cart.

“Come on, I wanna see what all this tastes like on a virile Vulcan. After all, it’s vitally important that I systematically check to make sure every part of you is yours and fully functional.”

Spock stood alone, face perfectly blank. Eventually, he went over to a wall console and called up room service.

“Whatcha ordering?” Jim asked, tasting whipped cream. Mmm, this was going on Spock’s cock. Maybe he’d top it off with a cherry.

“A variety of Vulcan fruits and lubricant.”

Jim snorted. “Gee, I wonder if they’ll be able to figure out what we plan on doing with that combination.”

“I tire of famine,” Spock said, turning to Jim with a familiar and much-welcomed fire. “I wish to feast.”

Spock threw Jim on the bed.

Room service would just have to deal with two horny, sticky gay men impatiently waiting for the lube.