Risky Moves

Kirk/Spock

Spoilers for season one; 'This Side of Paradise' & 'The Devil in the Dark'

Warning: Slash, M/M, gay lovin'—don't like, don't read

AN: I own nothing but a laptop and a head full of crazy ideas. Many, many thanks to my beta for this story, Spockaholic, I could never have finished it without her help and patience.

~.~

Most people when asked would tell you that James T Kirk was an impulsive man by nature, and much of the time this was true. But some of the time, when he was allowed the luxury, he liked to take his time to mull things over. Such was the case now.

With pergium production back on schedule thanks to Mr. Spock's ability to communicate with the Horta, the mining colony on Janus VI would more than meet the quota for their next shipment, and after finishing his reports of the incident, Jim was free contemplate his latest quandary.

As he sat across from the dynamic man, rolling a captured rook between his fingers, Jim yet again found himself caught off guard by the real depth of his Vulcan First Officer's emotions and his high regard for all life forms. Ever since their strange encounter on Ceti III, Jim had been hyperaware of the contemplative man. Never before had he realized how strictly the Vulcan kept himself in control of his emotions. It was only under the exposure of alien spores that his facade had cracked, allowing his strong feelings to show through.

Subtly scrutinizing Spock as he contemplated his next move, Jim realized that it wasn't that he ever truly believed his First Officer had no emotions, the incident with Captain Pike was proof of that, it was just that he had never truly witnessed a lapse in the other man's control. To see him smiling, laughing and looking so relaxed in the company of Leila had opened his eyes to the beauty his exotic First Officer exuded. Once he had seen it, he couldn't ignore it. Each day brought a new revelation where the Vulcan Science Officer was concerned.

More and more, Jim found himself staring at Spock across the monochromatic grid of the chessboard he kept in his quarters instead of focusing on his strategy. If Spock noticed, he chose not to mention it, which in itself was strange. Could the Vulcan be as distracted as he was?

After careful consideration, Spock moved his remaining rook into position. If the Captain continued playing in his current illogical manner, he would achieve checkmate within the next three moves. The Captain's mind was clearly not entirely on the game. Spock chose not to comment, though, on the grounds that he could not claim he was entirely focused on the immediate challenge himself.

Jim had been acting, to use a human expression, 'odd' as of late. He seemed often to be lost in thought, and Spock had looked up from his science station to find the other man staring directly at him approximately 43 times in the last four shift rotations. Most unusual. Spock could only conclude that something about himself was troubling the other man greatly.

This particular situation was most unsettling to him as he had a great respect for his Captain, a very intimate respect for him. It was no secret from himself how often his mind strayed to the charismatic human. In retrospect, he should have shown more caution when expressing his feelings toward the man during their latest mission to Janus VI. Several times Spock had been able to hear his own fear for the other man's safety in his voice over the communicator. Indeed, he had suffered several lapses in control that day, even so far as addressing the Captain as 'Jim' whilst on duty.

Most unprofessional. Logically, one could assume that these lapses had resulted in the Captain's recent discomfort around him. He would definitely need to meditate on this tonight if he were to be effective on future missions and on duty on the Bridge. It was imperative that he remain professional toward the other man, keeping his personal feelings at bay until such a time as he was adequately able to express them in an ideal setting- most definitely not during a dangerous situation on an away mission.

I do not understand. The Captain and I have faced similarly life- threatening situations many times during this expedition; why did I react so strongly during the last mission?

Spock wondered, arching an incredulous eyebrow at the Captain's next move.

"Captain- Jim, are you certain you wish to move your bishop to those coordinates?"

Startled out of his reverie, Jim blinked in confusion at the question and forced himself to focus back on the game. Glancing at the board he saw the error of his move immediately; he had taken away his King's only current defense, leaving himself open to attack.

"I'm sorry Mr. Spock, it appears my mind is elsewhere tonight."

"Very well Captain, perhaps we should reschedule when you are better able to focus. If you will excuse me, I have several reports to finish on the Horta for the Xenoanthropology department."

That said, Spock stood quickly, straightening the hem of his uniform tunic.

Jim also rose to his feet somewhat clumsily, reaching toward his First Officer to gently clasp his shoulder.

"Spock, wait—I had hoped we might discuss something."

An elegant eyebrow arched inquisitively and Spock inclined his head slightly in curiosity. With a small nod he returned to his seat, mindful of the way the human's hand lingered warmly on his shoulder before falling away somewhat reluctantly.

"Of course, Captain."

"Good. Great," Jim said, running a hand through his hair and exhaling loudly before he sat back down.

A strained silence ensued, broken only by the hum of the ship and their quiet breaths. They sat like this for several long moments while Jim struggled to find his voice.

"Spock I— well, I wanted to apologize again for my actions on the bridge after our 'experiences' on Omicron Ceti III. I—"

Spock held up a single hand.

"Captain, you have already apologized for your actions during that encounter, as have I. Furthermore, your apologies are unnecessary; it was the only course of action available to you at that time. It would be illogical to feel guilt for performing one's duty."

Grateful for Spock's graciousness in the matter but aware that he was quickly losing his nerve, Jim offered a weak smile and clumsily moved the conversation ahead.

"Yes, well, thank you Mr. Spock. I—there is something that's been bothering me since Omicron Ceti III; what did you mean by what you said to Leila in the transporter room?"

Involuntarily one of Spock's eyebrows climbed to his perfect hairline in ill-concealed surprise.

"Please specify Captain. To what part of our conversation are you referring?"

Jim winced at the emphasis Spock placed on 'our', clearing implying that it had been a private chat and his eavesdropping was not appreciated.

"I'm referring specifically to the phrase 'self-made purgatory'."

For a moment Spock froze, his mind completely blank in a way he had never before experienced; he had not intended for Jim to hear that. Blinking rapidly he came back to find Jim's hazel eyes staring at him with a single-minded intensity. Steepling his fingers, Spock took a moment to center himself before speaking.

"Jim, I did not intend—what I mean to say is that I was endeavoring to explain to Ms. Kalomi the importance of my duties to Starfleet, and to you and this ship; duties which must be put before anything as fleeting as wants or emotions."

"Do you really feel that way Spock? Is this your self-made purgatory?" the Captain asked, gesturing broadly to the ship.

Spock replied honestly, "At times, Jim."

Jim turned his palms up in a show of helplessness.

"But why, Spock? Is this really so terrible, are you really so unhappy here with us?"

The unspoken 'with me' at the end of the sentence hung heavily in the quiet of Jim's quarters.

"Happiness, or unhappiness, is a human emotion brought on by—"

"Damn it, Spock you know what I mean!"

In the following silence you could have heard a tricorder beep from across the bridge. Spock clenched and unclenched his fists where his hands were resting on his lap as he fought for control.

"Jim, I—Captain, I do not mean to imply that I am displeased with my life aboard this ship, however there are factors which must be considered when determining the outcomes of my experiences."

Jim narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"Factors, Spock?"

"Indeed, I sometimes find it difficult to understand my human crewmates: their reactions and emotions. Being raised on Vulcan, I was taught to be Vulcan, despite my human heritage. Now I am learning the balance between the two; I walk a thin line and I—I struggle to control my emotional reactions to those around me. You in particular."

Jim was caught off guard by the force Spock's brutal honesty.

"Me? I don't understand, Spock."

"I find myself drawn to you for the most illogical reasons; it is difficult to moderate my reactions to you, my feelings for you."

Spock paused, observing Jim's reactions for any clues to his thoughts about what Spock had said so far. Finding nothing threatening in the human's posture or expression, he decided it would be logical to 'get it off his chest' once and for all.

"Jim, I have a great deal of respect for you as my captain. You are also my closest friend and I enjoy the time we spend together. There have been instances where it has been most difficult for me to separate my feelings for you as my captain from those I have for you as my friend. I must confess it bewilders me. This feeling I have for you; more than friendship, is most puzzling. I—"

Reaching across the small table, Jim rested a warm hand on the Vulcan's shoulder. He peered deeply into Spock's eyes, searching for something. A grin broke across his face when he found it. Unbidden, his fingers tightened their hold, bunching Spock's tunic in their trembling grip. As he spoke, his hands trailed up Spock's neck, brushing intimately against his jaw and resting in the short hairs at the Vulcan's nape.

"Spock, if I understand you correctly, and I hope I do, I feel the same. You've entranced me, Mr. Spock; from the day that we met—what I feel for you goes beyond what a Captain should feel for his First Officer. And try as I might to ignore it or push it aside, I can't."

"Jim…"

It was a husky murmur, a quiet plea; but for what the Vulcan could not be sure. All he knew was that for the first time in his life, he wanted, and that was all that mattered.

Somehow, neither man was quite sure how they'd maneuvered around the table and chairs, but they were suddenly standing toe to toe, breath mingling, noses brushing. At this proximity Spock could accurately count the number of eyelashes Jim had shrouding his eyes. He could, but he did not. Something less tangible than mere flesh or physical attributes, but no less strong, was pulling them together.

Jim's hands were warm against his neck, trailing a line of heat down his spine to rest on his hips. Spock's own digits moved of their own volition, clutching and climbing up the human's broad back to curl around his shoulders in a vice-like grip.

They were breathing together; sharing the same air, when Jim moved—or maybe it was Spock, their lips were touching. Dry and cool moved against moist and warm like waves rolling up on the shore.

He should have mediated properly after his final meld with the Horta, Spock realized as his lips first brushed his Captain's. A spark of electricity shot through his system. His shields were inadequate and unprepared for the sudden onslaught of emotions. Spock gasped audibly and pulled back from the kiss, though he did not go far, their eyelashes were still brushing.

A thousand thoughts rushed to front of Jim's mind as he steadily held Spock's gaze.

Was that fear in Spock's dark eyes? No, not fear—it was softer; surprise.

"Spock?" Jim questioned gently. Spock blinked, straightening further and said,

"I apologize, Jim…"

With those three words Jim felt his heart drop to his stomach, settling there like year-old rations.

Spock, still caught in the pull Jim's emotions, sensed his distress from his close proximity. He shakily brought his hand up to caress his captain's face, ghosting over the meld points and settling on the man's jaw.

"Please do not misunderstand me Captain, I do not regret our actions, I am merely reminded that my shields are considerably weakened. Engaging in physical contact at this time would be ill-advised in respect to both of our privacy."

Jim crossed his arms over his chest, worrying the inside of his lower lip between his teeth absently.

"Spock, are your trying to say that you would not be adverse to 'engaging in physical contact' with me, but now is not a good time?"

The Vulcan looked relieved—as Jim had seen any of his race look, and dipped his head once in agreement.

"That is correct, Captain."

Jim took a moment to stare at his First Officer incredulously, his mind spinning in circles.

Spock wants this, maybe as much as I do. He said his shields are inadequate, I have to respect that—after all he is a telepath. But if I let him pull away now…

Clearing his throat, the captain said,

"Very well Mr. Spock, that's only fair. But, make no mistake; I'll be waiting for when it is a good time."

Spock felt as though a weight had been lifted from his chest. Jim was willing to wait. His heart pounded in his side as he illogically hoped that his Captain would not have to wait for long.

AN2: Sorry for leaving it so open ended, but this will eventually become a series. I say 'eventually' because I have no idea when, as life is unpredictable. R&R.