AN: Hello everyone! I am back with a new fic! This one is a series of drabbles, flashfics and oneshots centred around Spock and Kirk's growing relationship; some will be short, some will be longer… They can be read each one as a stand-alone, but they will follow a timeline.

This is a difficult project -100 words means 100 chapters, after all. I hope I'll make it! The basic plot is: a series of words which change meanings for Spock after he interacts with his beloved T'hy'la! ^-^ (Because they are cuties and they know it!). The ratings will vary from chapter to chapter, but I'll stay clear of rating M, I think. For the rest, there will be fluff, angst, slice of life, some action, experiments, a little of everything! Mostly it'll be Spock's POV, but I'll shift to Kirk from time to time, when needed.

Ok, so, with this I begin after Star Trek Beyond (so… SPOILER ALERT), and let's just assume Spock and Uhura broke up but are still on friendly terms. That I already wrote in my other fic (Frozen, which, got more than 3000 views! Thank you guys, that's swell, I'm so happy!) so I won't put it in here, I don't want to risk repeating myself.

100 Words

Please enjoy this first chapter! Of course, we begin with the word… Friend.

1

Friend

When he first laid eyes on him, it was all Spock could do not to turn away in disgust -that obnoxious, troublemaking human was everything he despised most in the whole universe: he was a bully and a cheat, someone who would willingly break any rule to achieve his ends; he would have never believed he would, one day, turn out to be his closest, dearest friend. But things were so much different back then. He hadn't yet had the privilege of becoming acquainted with the boundless force of nature that was James Tiberius Kirk.

It was true they had been thrown against one another in a rather unpleasant situation, one that would have surely destroyed any chance they had at trusting each other. Kirk was insubordinate, brash, conceited, and Spock was cold, logical, wary, and every bit as self-assured as the young Captain-thanks-to-a-Vulcan's-emotional-outburst was. They were both at fault, but none of them was prepared to step back and simply acknowledge the fact: had it not been for Spock's older self and his fascinating words, perhaps their defining friendship would never had started.

Or perhaps it would have nonetheless. For as they beamed up on the Narada together and fought side by side, something had seemed to click into place in the Vulcan's hurt, grieving, horror-struck mind. And when the Cadet -no, Captain- had told him: "I'll cover yah," in his usual, admittedly quite endearing vernacular, and he had asked: "Are you certain?" because he couldn't really bring his logic to submit to the idea of placing his own life in his hands, the human's reply of "Yeah, I got you," had been thoroughly satisfying.

So perhaps, yes, their friendship would have happened nonetheless. Especially considering that, right after the Narada incident had been over, the first thing Kirk had done was seek out Spock in order to apologise for his behaviour on the bridge and offer him heartfelt condolences. From that moment on, the blonde, animated human took it upon himself to make sure the Vulcan trusted him and was at ease.

The Commander walked the corridors of the Enterprise to find the temperature had been raised by two degrees (an outstanding feat, considering the energy required, and one done solely for him) and went to the mess to see the replicator had a wide choice of vegetarian meals, and many Vulcan recipes too -it was more than he could wish for, yet he discovered himself still unwilling to follow his Captain's orders without complaint.

It was not that he enjoyed fighting his authority (that would have been illogical, other than untrue), it was just that Spock felt Jim Kirk was way too daring and hot-headed for his own good, and naturally it fell upon him to make sure the reckless human stayed safe, even if it meant driving him up the wall with regulation and but sirs. In his own, fastidious way he was trying to care for him -his logical mind striving to define the connection he shared with the Captain, but coming up empty-handed: all things considered, it was quite reasonable that 'friendship' was an entirely foreign concept to him, giving his lonely childhood and strict upbringing.

Mistakes happened all the time, especially when one had virtually no experience in such delicate matters, and Spock might just have crossed the line -after all, Kirk had saved him from death by erupting volcano, and all he had been able to do was cite protocols back at him as a thank you. From a Vulcan point of view, he was obviously not to blame for his Captain's demotion, but to a human it must certainly seem so.

"Do you understand why I went back for you?" A simple question, yet one he was entirely at a loss on how to answer. He didn't understand. He absolutely didn't understand. His inner hidden self was gasping, panting under the sudden desperate effort to give this precious human what he wanted -what he needed. I do not even know why you are angry at me in the first place. How do you expect me to comprehend your reasons? Won't you help me see, when I cannot?

"…USS Bradbury. Guess you're with me." A new Captain -a different Captain -one that wasn't his Captain. No. I refuse. It would be illogical. I do not want to serve another. I have made an error, but surely there is some way I can redeem myself? "…Yes, Captain." No. It is not right, it is not right, it is not right!

"The truth is… I'm gonna miss you."

Not right, not right… Why does this simple change affect me so? Why can I not control myself? What have I done? How can I solve the equation?

Jim Kirk was disappointed at him for not replying, and he offered no help, no logic to sort through the illogic of emotion. The subject was closed, leaving the Vulcan dissatisfied and wondering.

Broken words, a broken future, fading away into nothing. It was Vulcan all over, another black hole sucking away everything he held most dear. Please, let it not be true… But there are no such things as miracles.

"I'm scared, Spock. Help me not be."

He was dying. His Captain was dying and there was a glass between them. His Captain was dying and there was nothing he could do, he was helpless, he could only watch and press himself against that cold, transparent surface in a futile attempt to touch him, reach him, comfort him. "How do you choose not to feel?"

To choose not to feel. Maybe that had been his mistake? Maybe that was why he hadn't understood sooner what this precious, courageous human meant to him? Because then and there he felt, all too clearly, and he most certainly understood. "I do not know. Right now I am failing." I am failing because I cannot save you. I will lose you. Captain, my Captain. How I wish I had known any sooner. Did you have to die for me to see? It is said an apology is illogical, yet I feel I have wronged you somehow, and I wish to tell you I am sorry… So sorry…

Jim was struggling to speak, lips trembling in his effort to form words: "I want you to know why I couldn't let you die. Why I went back for you." These are your last words for me? Is it so important to you for me to acknowledge what we share? How did I deserve such care?

His voice was shattered as it had never been, human tears fell across his cheeks, betraying his hybrid nature, and a raging fire was boiling in the pit of his stomach. He must pay, Khan will pay, he will suffer as Jim has, I will break his bones, taste his blood, hear his screams, choke his breath out of his lungs, turn him into a pile of ashes, burn him, torture him, annihilate him, because he dared take my Captain from me, because… "Because you are my friend."

When they spoke of love, humans employed a variety of unnecessary metaphors: they claimed love was like falling headfirst into the void, in an unsettling whirl of emotions and feelings; when they spoke of friendship, instead, they said nothing. Was it possible to fall into friendship? Because Spock had fallen, and he had fallen hard and unexpectedly fast, rushing towards that terrible moment, that soul-wrenching realisation. You are my friend.

He watched as those wide blue eyes lit up infinitesimally, and for once he felt as if he'd done the right thing. My friend, my first friend, my only friend, do not leave me, I beg of you…

Such anger was beyond anything he had ever experienced. Perhaps worse even than the Plak-tow, the Blood Fever, that dark green haze of madness clouding the Vulcan mind and claiming its secrets and melting its logic away to the point where nothing but a warrior -an animal, a furious, feral animal- remained…

And such overwhelming joy when Jim Kirk had been brought back! He hadn't shown it past the use of his Captain's first name, but he was quite sure his eyes gave out much more than he intended, shining in relief and happiness.

Indeed their friendship was, as the humans would put it, above and beyond.

His regard for Jim Kirk could only grow as time went by. He was the reason he hadn't yet submitted to his duties and fled to New Vulcan -Spock was prepared to leave even Nyota, and still he found he couldn't leave his Captain, he couldn't even bring himself to tell him about his choice, it felt like betrayal. Was it supposed to be like that? Was this friendship of theirs supposed to be so soul-consuming, so overpowering?

"What would I do without you, Spock?" Jim asked him breathlessly as they toppled down the cold floor of the bee they had conquered -stolen- from Krall's army. He had saved him once more, and had once more felt that paralysing fear that seized him every time the human risked his life. What would you do without me? How could I even think of leaving you? What would become of me without you, my friend?

He was half-blood. Most Vulcans wouldn't even welcome his help, so why should he offer it, when Jim Kirk needed him so? When he gave him his trust and pride and loyalty and all he asked in return was for him to stay?

Pointless to say, the matter was settled then.

And for all the very Vulcan puzzlement he experienced in front of emotions, he still noticed that his Captain had been deeply affected by their tête-à-tête with former war hero Balthazar M. Edison: he smiled significantly less, spent more time alone than interacting with the crew, and was overall sombre -well, as sombre as Jim Kirk could ever be- and way too placid for a human. Spock found himself quite illogically pleased to have discerned as much about James's gloomy mood, and he immediately started to carefully concoct an admittedly perfectly-laid plan to improve it. He seized his opportunity when he saw Jim enter the mess and flop down tiredly in front of an empty table; he got up, grasped his tray of half-eaten food and walked to stand by his chair: "May I join you?" he asked softly.

He was instantly rewarded with a grin that brought a certain warmth to settle in the Vulcan's chest, and the Captain snickered: "As if we haven't been sharing meals for the past three and a half years!"

"Three years, eight months, thirteen days and seventeen hours," Spock corrected absent-mindedly as he gracefully took a seat next to the human, who instantly craned his neck to peer into his dish: "Plomeek again?" he murmured fondly, "Still convinced Vulcans don't have favourites, are you?"

"Indeed, Jim." Spock sipped his soup with deliberate calmness, holding Kirk's bemused stare unflinchingly. "Plomeek soup does taste agreeable to me, but it is not my favourite. Having a favourite is illogical." His statement was met by a very mocking raising of eyebrows, and Spock couldn't help but feel quite proud to be the one to elicit such carefree, relaxed responses from Jim. It was, he thought, his specific duty as friend. "But I did not request to join you in order to be teased at."

Blue eyes fixed on his face, filling in curiosity as the blond gave him his undivided attention: "You didn't? No wonder!" he chuckled, "Then why on earth did you choose to grace me with your presence, Commander?"

"Doctor McCoy has inadvertently informed me you used to play chess," the Science Officer said slowly, studying his reactions closely. "I have been wondering whether you had an interest in engaging in such an activity this afternoon."

"Oh." Jim's surprise was endearing to look at. He shifted in his chair, bringing one finger to his temple to lightly scratch the short hair just above, then a warm, gentle smile spread wide across his face: "You know, I was planning to ask you sooner or later," he admitted, a little sheepishly, "Seen you play the computers a few times. Not the same, uh?"

"I take it you are willing?" Spock prompted, confused by his vague response. "Shall we move to the recreation room?"

Kirk laughed openly at that, wolfing down the last of his chips before he finished his glass of water. "Impatient, aren't we?" His teeth flashed under the sharp lights of the mess as he smirked yet again, tiny dimples forming at the corners of his mouth.

"Vulcans are never impatient," the Commander retorted haughtily, eyelids lowering infinitesimally in his display of superiority. He shot one look at his very empty bowl of soup, and brushed his spoon to its sides regardless, collecting every last drop with relish.

"Still not a favourite, right?" Jim demanded, winking.

"Negative."

"What has you so distressed, Jim?" Spock asked, not bothering with preambles, going straight to the point as he set the pieces on the three-dimensional chessboard. "Our latest mission was an absolute success; we defeated Krall and subsequently saved Starbase Yorktown, plus we destroyed a highly dangerous weapon." He raised his eyes to meet those of his Captain, who was staring at him intently, probably thinking of a way to avoid giving him a truthful answer to his question. He went on matter-of-factly, relaying his observations as if he had been making a report: "Our casualties have been very few -fewer than what the odds allowed. You should be, all things considered, satisfied, and displaying signs of confidence, boldness, relief. Why is it not so?" And, more importantly, how can I be of assistance?

Jim sighed deeply, rested an elbow on the table, dropped his chin in the palm of his hand. Blunt human teeth descended to worry his lower lip for a split second while he made up his mind, never breaking eye-contact with his First Officer, wanting to test his resolve. "Spock, do you think I've been dealt too much power?" he blurted out suddenly. Before the Vulcan could even begin to reply that No, Jim, I do not believe that in the slightest… he went on: "Because I do. There are more than four hundred people aboard this ship, and I am responsible for every last one of them, not to mention those decisions of mine that affect the aliens we meet planet-side… You look up to me and expect me to save the day, to be a hero, but…" He frowned, chest heaving and shoulders slumping. "What if I'm wrong? What if I make all the worst choices? What if I go mad like Edison did and put you all in danger?" He was rushing now, spilling out his soul-deep worry that made Spock flinch a little and recoil, feeling a bit ill-equipped to deal with it. "I could blow the whole thing up in a blink! I'm just a man, yet I must be so much more…"

He blinked, shaking his head: "Sorry. I don't know where that came from. Did I shock your Vulcan sensibility?"

The Science Officer raised an eyebrow: "Do you truly think so little of me?" he chided, successfully concealing any confusion and stress he might have felt in front of his friend's legit doubts. "Jim. You are an excellent Captain, and I am quite honoured and pleased to serve under your command." He relaxed his impassive expression to allow the tiniest glint of affection to shine in his dark eyes. "That being said… The probabilities that an event such as you have described could occur are less than one against ten. Very few, but still there. I for one do not believe them to be enough to even suggest questioning your authority." His lips trembled, his usual ghost of a smile playing on his face: "You may rest assured that I will do everything in my power to see to it that you are always fit for Command, Captain."

"Is that so, Mister Spock?" Jim taunted, tension visibly draining from his back and neck.

"Indeed." The Vulcan straightened impossibly. "I, too, am acquainted with having to meet unbearably high expectations."

"You bet." The human stretched his fingers with a sharp crack of thin bones, ignoring Spock's evidently disturbed expression as he did so. "Your father must be quite the demanding parent, uh?"

"Quite." Unwilling to discuss Sarek, the First Officer gestured shortly towards the chessboard: "I was under the impression we were here for a specific reason."

"You're the one who went all psychologist on me, pointy." He laughed gently, then extended his arm to lightly touch Spock's blue sleeve: "Seriously, though. Thank you."

"Thanks are illogical and unnecessary," the Vulcan declared, nodding, "Yet I have to say, you are welcome, Jim."

A few days after their exchange came the realisation.

It was the very first shore leave Spock had taken since he and Lieutenant Uhura had parted ways, and the Vulcan had been entirely uncertain as to what had compelled him to join the landing party up until he had been down on the designed planet -a magnificent place, graced with an appealing lilac sky and richly-scented atmosphere. He was alone, for he had not made previous plans to descend and Jim had been the first to go, along with the rest of Alpha crew. He ended up in a bar, forcing his way through the crowd in an attempt to search for his Captain, hoping he would not be too busy getting into some pretty alien's pants to keep him company.

He reinforced his mental shields as he advanced, trying his best to avoid making contact with any of the leering, overexcited beings that filled the small dark room to the point where Spock began questioning their sanity for not simply leaving. As he finally reached the counter, he stopped dead at the sound of his name being hissed by a very familiar voice.

"What's your problem with Spock?" Jim snarled in what was an unmistakably aggressive tone.

The Vulcan paused for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should depart in order to give his Captain some privacy; still, it was him he was talking about, and Spock was many things, but above all he was curious, so he stayed.

"Why, Jimmy… Everybody has a problem with the half-breed," Kirk's interlocutor, the Vulcan guessed, was Irish, a few years older than the Captain himself, judging by his voice and accent. "I wonder why you don't?"

"Just shut the hell up, Finnegan." Jim growled, giving Spock another much-wanted piece of information. Lieutenant Commander Finnegan had been one of Starfleet's most troublesome students, and the First Officer had come to understand he held a particular grudge against his friend; he began to consider joining them to offer support and perhaps order the annoying human away.

"He's so interfering and superior," Finnegan mercilessly continued, "But maybe you like to have him bossing you around? Poor, submissive Jimmy…"

Spock nearly knocked down a stool in sudden rage. He dared speak to the Captain as such?

"You're just jealous I get to keep him and not you," Jim countered, sounding bored now.

Keep me? "He's the best Officer Starfleet could ever dream of having."

A laughter was heard. It was rather unpleasant. "Unemotional, sassy and nerdy. La crème de la crème, Jimmy boy, really."

"You wish you had his brains," Kirk muttered, before hollering at the barman: "Hey, get me another, will you?" The Vulcan decided it would be best if he joined his Captain now.

"He's just a freak." The sheer malice of the word -which he had heard repeated and directed at him countless times in his childhood and youth- hit him like a powerful blow. He took a step back. "A science experiment gone wrong."

He took another step back. Then a third, for good measure.

"Say that again," Jim's voice went cold with perilous fury. "Say that again and I'll murder you." Spock released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, and this time he stepped forward.

"Oh, I know you wouldn't dare, Jimmy." The Vulcan heard his friend grit his teeth. "Not for that walking icicle."

"Oh, yeah? Try me." Kirk was ready to pounce. Spock hurried towards him.

"Freak." Finnegan said, very slowly.

"You asked for i…-Spock!"

The Vulcan grabbed his Captain by the wrist, stopping him before he could land a blow on the Lieutenant's face and start a fight that would surely cost him trouble. "Greetings, Jim," he murmured calmly, letting him go when he felt the wave of fury surrounding him had subsided. Then he looked up to glare at Finnegan, freezing him in place. "I had never known a human could be so utterly disgusting," he stated, as if speaking about the results of some interesting research. "Your foolishness fascinates me."

He saw Jim go pale and stand quickly, rage, sympathy and sadness rolling off him and crashing against his shields. "Oh my God. Spock. You heard it all."

"Indeed, Captain."

Finnegan gulped, cowering under Kirk's poisonous gaze, and suddenly the Vulcan felt like he needed to restrain his friend again -his fingers were twitching, wanting to clasp themselves around the Lieutenant's neck and choke him. "You beast," Jim hissed viciously, "You beast. I'll hand your ass to you, just you wait and…"

"Jim, please." Spock interrupted, tugging at his sleeve in a not-so-subtle attempt to steer him away from the danger of ruining his career for a bar fight. "Would you mind joining me for a walk? This place is quite tiring for my senses."

Jim deflated. "Of course, Spock. Let's go. I can kill him later." Then louder, at the barman: "My drinks are on him!" With that, he turned his back on Finnegan and expertly navigated the room to a side door, his First Officer close on his heels, eager to go somewhere quiet and uneventful.

"Killing him will not be necessary," Spock said sternly, looking up at the colourful sky. "But I thank you nonetheless."

"Thank me?" Jim was appalled. Both his hands came to rest on the Vulcan's shoulders as he stared at him seriously. "Spock, you never have to thank me for defending you." His ocean eyes burned, piercing his very soul. "What kind of a friend would I be if I didn't?"

"Even so, it is not to be taken for granted."

His Captain shook his head and offered him a warm smile: "You can. You can take it for granted. I'd be glad if you did."

That was when the realisation happened.

He had made an enormous mistake. He had believed 'friend' to be just a word to describe James T. Kirk. But that was untrue: it didn't even begin to cover the greatness, the amazing loyalty of this human being. And it was the other way around, Spock was now sure. Since that day, James T. Kirk became the one and only possible definition of 'friend'.

"So…" The Captain turned on the spot, breaking the silence: "Did you have… anything in mind for us to do?"

"I regret having to tell you that I have, indeed, come unprepared." The Vulcan confessed, folding his hands at the small of his back. "If you had made plans, then perhaps I should…"

"My plans are not that important," Jim waved carelessly, then pointed left, where a large group of rocks could be seen, not too far from them. "How about we go exploring?" he suggested, growing instantly excited, "I've been told there's a lake nearby, with actual plants and actual fish!" His brow furrowed a little, and he glanced at Spock, "I understand water's not really your thing, but… uh… Let's just make the best of it, ok?"

"I find your arrangement to be most agreeable," the Vulcan murmured sincerely, "Let us go, Jim."

Yes. When he first met him, he would never had believed Jim Kirk would become his closest, dearest friend. And yet there he was, perfectly content to watch this golden human's back and follow him around.

His friend.

AN: That's all, folks! (My English teacher is in love with the phrase… it stuck like glue) This came out… longer than I expected. Anyway, hope you guys liked it! I'll be back soon with chapter two, hopefully. We'll be exploring guilt. Spock's guilt for being a child of two worlds.

Live long and prosper, and please R&R!