A/N: "When love is in excess, it brings a man no honor, no worthiness." –Euripides

Takes place after the events in the 2009 movie, and later on, after Into Darkness (aka spoilers). Contains TOS refs because I'm just illogical like that ;)

Hope you enjoy it!
Love,
Bird

Chapter 1 - Chess

"Spock?"

"Spock."

"Spoooooock."

"Spooooooooooooooooooock."

The door finally opens, revealing a tall, intimidating figure clad in black.

"Captain," the Vulcan in question responds rather stiffly. His back is as straight as a rod, his hands are clasped behind his back, and his lips are in the same straight, tight line as always.

He's miffed, Jim thinks with a smirk. He thinks he's got it all perfectly hidden away in his blank Vulcan face, but he really hasn't.

"Commander." Jim responds with the same amount of stiffness in mockery.

Spock's eyes narrow slightly. Good, Jim thinks giddily. A reaction.

Kirk continues totally-not-pestering-his-first-officer. "Why didn't you open the door when I called for you the first time? I know you heard me, with your mighty Vulcan hearing and all that. Truly it isn't only logical, but necessary, to immediately respond to your captain's summons?" Jim tries very, very hard not to sound like he's about to break out into laughter.

Spock stares at him.

And stares.

And stares some more.

Ok, Jim thinks. This is getting a little uncomfortable.

Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission, part of his mind screams. Another part of his mind tells him to keep goading Spock because it's great fun.

Guess which side wins?

"Permission to stop staring, granted." Jim cracks a huge grin as he says this, and sure enough, the Vulcan's eyes narrow even more. Emotionless, my ass. Whoever thought that has obviously not teased enough Vulcans in their life. Or mind melded with an elderly, alternate reality version of their Vulcan first officer.

"Captain, may I remind you that you are currently standing in front of my living quarters at 0106 hours," Spock states simply, his head tilting the slightest of angles to the left.

He does that when he's either confused or curious or both, Jim thinks with no little affection.

"Was there a question there, Mr. Spock? Or were you just deflecting my accusation?" Kirk teases relentlessly. He could do this all day. Or night. Is 1 am night or day, if you think about it?

The dark eyes briefly narrow into slits before returning to their normal state of controlled blankness. Kirk almost pouts.

"If there is nothing you need, then I will return to my quarters to meditate, Captain," Spock says frostily and with finality.

"Wait!" Jim cries out, and there's a catch of vulnerability in his voice that he hadn't meant to release. He inwardly curses, but quickly forgets his emotional slip-up when his first officer (who had already turned away without waiting for a reply, the bastard), turns back.

Jim hadn't come here just to tease Spock, dammit. He was here for a reason.

He shifts uncomfortably. Teasing and messing around is what he's comfortable with, not admitting weakness.

"I know that Vulcans don't need as much sleep as humans, and I couldn't sleep tonight, so I thought I'd find you to play a game of chess," Jim blurts out. "Rolling around on my bed restlessly for hours wasn't exactly invigorating for my brain," he finishes with a small grin, in an attempt to bring humor into the situation.

Spock stares at him again, this time contemplative. Jim shifts uncomfortably some more, inwardly punching himself for thinking this was a good idea. Man, he really needs to storm in on Bones after this, wake him up whether he likes it or not to rant while downing some nice old whisky and whatever other liquor the good doctor has…

"I believe the human colloquialism would be, 'Come on in,' Captain."

"Jim," Kirk laughs in relief, tension seeping out of him. "Call me Jim. We're off-duty right now and about to play a game of chess, Spock. There's no need for formality."

Spock pointedly ignores his suggestion, instead turning back towards his room without another word, Kirk following close behind.

As he takes in the orderly, impersonal quarters and Spock's lean figure pulling the chess board out, Jim wonders why he's really here. It was true that he couldn't sleep, but before, on sleepless nights, he'd always accepted the fact, gritted his teeth, and lay in bed in restless silence until dawn.

As he watches Spock's long fingers set up the chess board with graceful precision, Jim finds he knows why. It's because of Ambassador Spock. That sneaky old Spock, with his sneaky old statement about us being great friends in that other life.

"I have been, and always shall be, your friend," that Spock had said, and Jim's eyes had widened and his mouth had opened to speak but then they had been beamed away, him and Scotty, back onto the Enterprise, and Jim couldn't confirm it. Couldn't confirm whether or not the elderly Vulcan's voice had trembled from something that was not age, or whether or not those deep-seated emotions in his wizened eyes were affection, devotion, trust…

I want to be his friend, Jim thinks stubbornly. This Spock's friend. And if what that Spock said was true, and he and that Kirk were the greatest of friends, then surely we could be great friends here as well?

The thought causes him to hum cheerfully as he ponders his next move, and Spock glances sharply up. Any semblance of warmth flees as Jim wonders, in horror and embarrassment, if he's done something wrong or offensive. It was true that while teasing his first office, Jim could deduce the Vulcan's emotions in a heartbeat, but when it came to anything deeper, Jim was helpless.

He was helpless, and the one thing James Tiberius Kirk hated more than anything else in the world was being helpless. He didn't believe in no-win situations. He couldn't.

Spock must have noticed a shift in his captain's countenance, because he asks, tentatively and quietly, what tune Kirk had been humming.

Jim replies just as tentatively, blushing a bit as he says, "It's nothing. Just a children's lullaby common among humans – must have done it subconsciously since I'm so damn tired." He manages to huff out a laugh that does nothing to ease his embarrassment and tension.

There's an awkward pause Jim should have expected, and he just wants to run away and bang on McCoy's door already and forget this happened, but then Spock breaks the silence.

Speaking very slowly and very carefully, as if picking his words with great struggle, Spock murmurs, "My mother hummed the same melody when I was very young."

Another silence, this time a different kind of awkward. A newfound heaviness hangs in the air. Spock is watching Kirk to see how he'll react, and Kirk feels like he's drowning in pressure.

Well, he thinks wryly. I've always worked best under immense pressure.

His first instinct is to brush all of this off with a joke, the way he does all the time with everyone else – but oh yeah, this is Spock, and he can't afford to mess this up, doesn't want to.

And so Kirk swallows his ever-present shield of humor and his weapon of pride, and quickly lets out what's on his heart before he can do something stupid.

"I'm sorry," Jim says, his voice hoarse with emotion. "About what I said that day on the bridge about you never loving your mom. I didn't mean it. I… I had to say it, I had to do what I did, you have to trust me on this. I feel so awful, but it was the only way for… reasons, and I know you loved your mom and obviously cared because I know Vulcans have emotions and why else would you have immediately beamed down to a super dangerous situation to get her yourself?"

Jim is rambling now, hardly knowing what's he's saying but unable to stop, the momentum of his words surging him forward.

"Look, what I'm trying to say is that I truly would not have done what I did that day if it weren't because he…"

He broke off abruptly, eyes wide. Well, that was close. Almost killed our entire universe by revealing Spock Prime to Spock Not-Prime, no big deal. And by the way, nice job on rambling, Jimmy. Real smooth.

His first officer is silent. This appears to be a trend in their relationship – periods of heavy silence. Great. Jim waits, heart beating loudly and quickly.

Badump. Badump. Badump.

Jim hopes Spock can't hear his heartbeat, because the guy is kind of known for his acute hearing, but being able to hear someone's heart beating would take some sort of ultimate hearing power, so what he's thinking is completely illogical… Oh great, now I'm thinking like Spock.

Speaking of "pointy-eared hobgoblins" (as McCoy would say), Spock is now looking at him, and there's something about his eyes that makes Jim sit up straight and snap out of his thoughts.

Jim waits to be punched, or strangled again, or worse, told that he'll never be forgiven, but then Spock lets out a breath, a curiously human gesture, and says,

"There is no need for you to apologize. The fault was entirely mine. I am aware of my alternate universe's counterpart, and understand that you made the necessary choice."

Spock's eyes grow immensely serious. "It is I who needs to apologize, Jim."

He called me Jim, Kirk thinks dimly, and his mind is a whirl, no longer processing a thing.

"For marooning you and harming you, there is no excuse." Spock's eyes settle on Jim's throat for a brief moment, gentle and full of regret.

"It is I who needs to apologize," Spock repeats softly, and time completely stops for Jim because it's absolutely illogical to apologize and even more so to repeat said apology and…

And Jim suddenly remembers what Spock said about the other Spock, and the strange emotions churning inside of him take an icy blow to the gut.

"You know about the other Spock?!" All of the tension that had built up in the room deflates, and is that amusement and chagrin he sees on Spock's face?

"Yes," Spock says. Jim waits for him to say something else, anything else, but he doesn't.

"Wait, then why didn't the universe implode in some sort of paradox like he said it would?!"

The chagrin on Spock's face grows more noticeable.

His eyebrows knit together, Spock states with obvious reluctance, "He merely implied such an outcome."

Jim laughs in disbelief and pleasure. "Isn't that basically lying? And here I thought Vulcans didn't lie, but I guess that was a lie too, wasn't it? Dang, Spock, you sure grow up to be one naughty Vulcan." He emphasizes his final statement by wriggling his eyebrows, to which Spock does not visibly react.

"I am already an adult, Jim, and therefore your statement is illogical. Furthermore, Ambassador Spock is not precisely I, as he is –"

"Whatever you say," Kirk interrupts with a huge, goofy grin that immediately shuts Spock up, making his lips form their usual tight, straight line.

They continue their briefly forgotten game of chess in silence, but this time, it's a good kind of silence. It's a comfortable sort of silence, one between two people who have passed over a previously unresolved barrier and in turn gained a deeper, richer understanding of the other.

Jim ends up winning, and one of Spock's brows shoots straight up.

"Remarkable. You have defeated me in a game of logic."

"And that's exactly how I won, Mr. Spock," Jim grins. "By taking advantage of that and making moves that defy logic, thus forcing your hand."

Spock doesn't say anything, but there's a look of approval and admiration in his calm eyes that makes Jim feel rather warm yet also inexplicably nervous.

Yawning, he asks Spock what time it is, "since you've got your perfect internal clock and all," he adds, teasingly.

"0434 hours," Spock responds mechanically. His shields are completely back now, revealing not a shred of emotion or care. Kirk finds he really, really doesn't like it when Spock goes "Super-Vulcan" mode, and wonders how he ever was ok with it. Wonders how there was ever a time he couldn't see past it.

Jim stands up. "I guess I'll head back to my own quarters now. Sorry for bothering you, Spock, and thanks." He means more than just for the game, and Spock knows that.

"It was my pleasure, Captain," Spock replies, and Jim senses a tiny crack in his Super-Vulcan mode perhaps he himself does not even realize. Jim smiles fondly and leaves, humming the same lullaby as earlier under his breath.

Spock does not move after the captain leaves, instead staring at the chess set, its pieces still placed as they were in Jim's victory. It is illogical of him to sit there, unmoving, rather than immediately clean up the pieces and meditate, but Spock finds for once that he does not care.