Chess is a high stakes game. Then again, to Jim Kirk, all games are high stakes. He makes them that way; otherwise it's not a game worth playing, in his mind. Isn't it true that the biggest rewards come from the hardest climbs?

That was what he strove for. Gaining command of the Enterprise, with its fantastic crew, was the biggest prize yet. Yet having the privilege of Spock's attention; that was a close contender.

When Jim really held that attention – even if it did feel purely natural in some aspects – it was still hard to handle without feeling so unsure of himself. This may be one of the few things he'd ever bothered to go back to rethink his thought processes afterwards. Or while it was still taking place; that worked too.

At least his room was clean by the time Spock showed up at his doorstep, though he couldn't say the same for his own body. He couldn't help but be grateful for his modesty when it came to his body, otherwise he'd have been blushing when his commander's eyes seem to lock onto his bare, sweaty chest.

He could have sworn the tips of those pointed ears turned a bright, pale shade of olive.

"Your move, captain." Spock's slow, quiet voice caused Jim's train of thought to veer off the tracks. His eyes refocused fast enough to give him a small dose of vertigo, but it wore off as quickly as it arrived.

"You're in my personal quarters, Spock. I think you can call me Jim, unless that'd cause you pain or something." Jim chuckled, moving his queen as close as he could to Spock's king. It was a little suspicious how easy it was to get there…

"Affirmative, Jim, though I think you may want to re-evaluate your last move, even if it is too late to change it." The first officer's barely-there smug smirk made an appearance as he took the captain's queen with his own.

Jim's jaw went slack. He'd been suspicious of Spock's play so far, but this was not what he was suspecting. They say chess is a game of logic, after all; he should have seen this coming a mile away. He did have an excuse, however. He was distracted! That was it!

But distracted by what? Well, that much was obvious. It was the man sitting directly across from him, of cou-

Jim cut his own thoughts short. No, that couldn't possibly be it. There must be some sort of other explanation for his lack of focus. He wasn't denying that Spock was an attractive man; that was like denying that Bones didn't drink half a bottle of bourbon between shifts. Jim wasn't insecure with his sexuality, either. He'd figured that game out a long time ago.

Still, everything was adding up in that direction. Why did even Jim's deductions about his feelings for this man have to be logical? It was as if everything Spock touched turned into simple charts and graphs with obvious conclusions. Human train of thought didn't easily adapt to this.

"Captain? Are you well? You seem distracted." The smooth, level voice derailed Jim's train again. His head snapped up at attention, just like his days as a lowly cadet in Starfleet Academy, but relaxed just as fast.

"Yeah, Spock. I'm okay, I'm…I'm fine," Jim assured, rubbing his temples with one hand, the other poised above his now-vulnerable king. "Just a little distracted, that's all."

"If I may have the liberty to ask, what is troubling you?" Spock's voice lowered, as if someone could overhear him if he talked at regular volume. His tone sent shivers down Jim's spine, causing his shoulders to roll ever so slightly. If Spock noticed this, he decided not to comment.

"Uh…y'know, I may take a rain check on that one with you, Spock. It's…complicated, and has to do with the sort of 'human emotions' that I'm sure you don't want to hear about." Jim replied, lowering his arm from the board. He'd eventually decided on moving his king one space to the left, hoping that wasn't all part of the first officer's plan, too.

Spock's eyebrow went ceiling-ward only slightly, which Jim assumed meant that he respected this and was merely intrigued, not condescending. He assumed. When it came to Vulcans, that could mean 'the warp cores are exploding as we speak,' as far as he knew.

However, that didn't matter much in the long run, since it disappeared after mere seconds. The hitched eyebrow was replaced swiftly with the faintest hint of a smug smirk making its big encore as Spock's knight came out of nowhere, cornering the captain's king. Jim couldn't do anything but groan as the same voice that caused him to shiver only seconds ago announced,

"Check, Jim. I would suggest something other than whatever strategy you are working off of now, as it seems to be doing more harm than good on your part. On the other hand, I find it to be most helpful."

"Either way your impeccable logic will get me, why change?" Jim grumbled, lazily shoving one of his last pawns vaguely in Spock's queen's direction. The eyebrow raise returned.

"This is most certainly not the Captain James T. Kirk I've come to know. Has something else replaced the captain without my knowledge?" Spock quipped, his tone dashed with something Jim recognized as…smugness – again. The Vulcan was consistently playing smart aleck with him. The Vulcan.

"Yeah, it's all Invasion of the Body Snatchers over here. Beware, Spock, the Pod People are on their way to take over the Enterprise!" Jim joked back, waving his arms around as ridiculously as possible. The eyebrow disappeared into a curtain of glossy, black bangs. This would not be its last act, however.

"Invasion of the Body Snatchers? I'm assuming that, and these 'Pod People,' are some sort of human reference I have yet to understand? Some very important cultural anecdote I haven't happened upon in my studies yet, of course." Spock replied. Jim did all he could not to let the force of his laughter knock the entire chessboard over.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Very important. Totally not some ancient 'movie' from the twentieth century that doesn't really mean much in the long run. Absolutely." He managed to choke out between racks of laughter. He caught a glimpse of something like a smile, added onto the most subtle eye roll in the history of the Milky Way, through his half closed eyes.

Something fluttered in Jim amid the twinge of muscle strain in his laughter-exhausted chest. This was the second time that happened to him in a ten-minute period.

At just the wrong moment, as Jim's laughter subsided and the room quieted – almost achieving peace, no less – the comm system alerted them of an incoming message from Lab Five. Not hiding his disdain, Jim stood up from the chessboard and tapped the comm screen. Scotty's face flashed upon the screen, to both Jim and Spock's surprise.

"Cap'n, I think I may 'ave found som'thin 'bout tha' goo I foun'!" Scottish tones crackled through the speakers; even the inter-ship communications system was still dodgy while they were in range of the Starbase. Jim let both of his eyebrows flick upwards in interest.

"Oh really? Me 'n Mister Spock were just finishing up a game of chess; we'll be down there in just a minute. Kirk out." Jim replied, and then cut off the conversation with the tap of a finger. He turned to face his first officer, who still sat with back severely erect and hands folded neatly in his lap.

"I, uh…I guess we're going to have to cut this 'friendly game' short, huh? Too bad, always the 'work comes before play' philosophy, though you probably don't appreciate that sentiment as much as I do, do you?" Jim tried to laugh it off, but ended up sounding nothing but uncomfortable. However, what he was trying to say was not entirely lost on the commander.

"There is no need to apologize, if that is what you are trying to do," Spock paused for a moment. "Jim." That single world lit Kirk's face up once again, like a light switch being flicked on in a dark room.

"I will admit, however, that I am suspicious of Mister Scott in this situation, as I was operating tests on the 'goo' that he found, and no one else, to my knowledge, was as well. Either he has tampered with my experiments, or started his own without informing me prior." Spock rationalized.

"Yeah, yeah, okay Spock. Whatever. Let's just go check out some goo so we can get back to our game, lickety split!" Jim practically bolted out the room, calling to his first officer over his shoulder. Spock wasn't struggling to keep up, though he did seem marginally annoyed with his captain's antics.

It took nothing but a simple tap on the shoulder to get Jim to slow down, surprisingly. He whipped around, eyes ablaze and eyebrows half up his forehead. Spock felt something stir in his chest. He shushed it.

"Lickety split, captain?" The Vulcan inquired, no sign of physical exertion evident in his voice, even after the half a mile of corridor he ran down to catch up with Kirk. Speak of the devil, Jim had doubled over laughing.

"Nothing, Spock. Just a human colloquialism. Means 'fast' or 'promptly,' or something along those lines. My mom used to say it, actually." He replied, after the peals of laughter had gone away. The smile still lingered.

That smile did things to Spock's chest. He continued to quiet it, though he felt an increasing sense of futility with that endeavor. By now, Jim had started up walking again, at a much slower pace than before. Pushing the fluff in his stomach to the side, Spock fell into step alongside him.

"I see. Your colloquialisms will never cease to…surprise me." The Vulcan admitted. Jim snorted.

"Surprised? You? By God, I think I've caused a miracle," He exclaimed, momentarily throwing his arms in the air. "Either that, or you're just using another 'human vernacular to convey an idea' with me again. If that's so, I can't say I'm surprised, though I am just a little disappointed."

"I can assure you, captain, it is rather different this time." Spock said in a low tone, and didn't say anything else until they were alone in the turbolift. All that lingered between them was the small, warm smile that replaced the goofy grin on Jim's face. The sensation returned to Spock's chest with an entire army behind it. His shields bore the air of foreboding about them, nowhere near ready for the onslaught nearly upon them.

In the turbolift, Jim coughed; it would seem he was just clearing his throat. Yet there was no reason for this, unless he was going to say something, or he had mucus buildup that needed to be cleared. Since the common cold had been eradicated fifty years prior, and Doctor McCoy wouldn't let the ship's captain go anywhere with a cough of any kind, Spock felt it safe to assume (with 80% accuracy) that Kirk meant to say something.

"Computer, halt turbolift." Kirk demanded, and the thrum surrounding them slowed to a stop.

"I, uh…I was wondering, do you still think that this whole 'starbase investigation' thing is a good idea?" Jim asked. Spock tilted his head, completely silent, asking for clarification. "I mean, this is the first real, actually life threatening mission we've taken on since…since Khan. I'm not worried about anything like that happening again, 'anything like that' meaning me dying, you losing your cool and beating the ever-loving shit out of a guy, and then me magically being brought back to life…but I'm still worried that more people, under my command, could get hurt. I…I haven't worried about that until now since we've only taken on star charting missions and things like that, but still.

"The question still stands, and as my first officer – and my friend – it's your job to tell me when I'm doing something dumb, isn't it?" Jim finished, turning to face his Vulcan first officer, both of his hands placed firmly on those square, science blue-draped shoulders.

Spock paused, his jaw slacked open a little, barely held together. He never expected the captain to get this serious with him, even with all they'd been through thus far. The emotions – those of trust, friendship, and something else he couldn't identify, barely below the surface – he could just barely feel blossoming out from where Jim's hands made contact on his arms were almost overwhelming. If his shoulders had been bare, this situation would have been entirely different from that point forward. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts into proper sentences, devoid of emotion, the logical way.

"It is not my place to tell you if you are entirely right or wrong, as that is not only illogical, but misconduct towards you, as my captain. Matters of opinion are also not my strong suit. But," Spock paused again. "I will trust your good judgment to continue with this mission, not only because it has been assigned to us by Starfleet Command, but because I cannot see why this could have anywhere near the amount of risk involved with Khan's, or even Nero's, attacks. I have calculated the risk to be– " Spock was cut off short by Jim cracking up. Again.

"Alright, Spock, I don't think your facts and figures are going to reassure me very much," He said, slapping his first officer firmly on the back, twice in a row. "But the other stuff you said, before that, did. So, thanks for that." That same warm smile returned, reaching all the way up into those sky blue eyes, grabbing their light and directing it all toward the fuzzy spot that rose again in Spock's chest –

Spock caught himself before he went tumbling down a long, emotional path, solely caught up in those beautiful eyes. He hadn't realized when he started to fantasize about them, much less that he had at all, and it wasn't a pleasant discovery. It may interfere with his work later on. This must be stopped.

"Computer, resume turbolift descent." Jim announced, and the computer complied without a second's delay. They arrived at their destination, right down the hall from the lab, without as much as another word between them. Spock's mind – his ever-so organized, orderly, and utterly brilliant mind – was still reeling.

Mister Scott was waiting right in front of the door, practically jumping on the balls of his feet by the time they arrived. After what could be considered mild verbal abuse, berating the captain and first officer for their lateness, he moved towards the lab table. Specifically, the lab table that Spock had left behind about three hours ago to play chess with Jim.

So, the truth finally comes to light. Scotty really did tamper with Spock's work. If they hadn't been as close as they were, Montgomery Scott would have another black mark on his permanent record in no time flat, most likely hanging out in cheesy clubs like he did before being reinstated as the Enterprise's chief engineer right after Khan.

"So, Scotty, what's the whole big deal with this goo? I stopped a chess game for this, so it better be good, or so help me. I was winning, too," Jim said, one hand perched casually on his left hip. Scotty raised an eyebrow, "Yeah, okay, I was losing horribly. Just get on with it."

"Well, I was jus' look'n over m' samples, an' I happ'n'd upon a very strange bit 'o evidence," Scotty drawled, gesturing towards the petri dish that contained said evidence.

"I will have to interject, if you will excuse me, Mister Scott. What you claim to be 'your samples' are, in fact, mine. You have come into this lab, presumably unaware that this was my experiment, while I was in the captain's quarters. You have preceded to finish the work I had started, so this could be considered a 'joint effort,' if you will." Spock interrupted, looking as composed – and imposing – as ever.

Scotty's eyebrows met his hairline. For a few long moments, it seemed they were almost inseparable. But then, they descended and the Scotsman opened his mouth to speak.

"Oh. Well. That woul'," He cleared his throat, "Explain qui' a few questions tha' arose during th' course 'o th' experimen'." Spock didn't push anything any further, besides a surprisingly congenial incline of his head.

"Now that that's been cleared up, what's this big discovery of yours, Scotty?" Jim cut in, right before the awkward silence set in. His timing was impeccable.

"Firs' of all, th' goo isn' artificial. Iss organic, jus' as so as you an' me. Ev'n further, iss par' some unidentifi'ble org'nism, an' par' human. Very wild, very wild indeedy, I say." Scotty explained, gesturing madly towards the petri dish, eyes wide. After he was finished, he rocked back and forth on his heels, arms folded behind his back.

While Spock did nothing but arch a single brow, Jim leaned forward, his eyes the size of dinner plates. He didn't know what surprised him more; the fact that it was part human matter, or part something not in Starfleet record. They were both equally disturbing.

"Do we have any specifics on whose DNA this is, Mister Scott? Or were your findings limited to only this?" Spock pressed on after a pregnant beat of silence. Scotty stopped before he started his sentence, mouth slack in a half open position.

"I, uh…I di' no', sir. Felt it bes' t' let you know wha' I foun' jus' now as soon as possible." Scotty replied ducking his head momentarily, though his face had gone slightly sourer than it had been not seconds before.

"Then I would find it the best course of action for you to leave now, Chief. Your findings are greatly appreciated, but you are dismissed." Spock ordered, and Scotty obeyed – albeit grumpily. The Vulcan then turned to face his commanding officer.

Jim could have sworn that severe expression softened by the smallest fraction. Just barely, almost nonexistent, but it did.

"Captain, if I am to finish my examination of the remaining samples, I will need a certain degree of peace and quiet. Since you could serve to be a distraction in my scientific endeavors, I will have to ask you to leave. I cannot order you to, but it would be more beneficial to the wellbeing of the mission if you did," Spock said, looking his captain dead in the eyes. They said what remained unspoken in his words, the little 'I enjoy your company, but work is work' that Vulcans deemed too illogical to say out loud.

Jim couldn't help but smile. Slapping Spock on the back again as briefly as possible, he left the room much less crabbily than Scotty had, leaving the Vulcan behind, alone with his work.

On his way out, he could have sworn he heard a quiet, "I apologize for the abrupt ending of our match," but it could have just been the quiet thrum of the impulse engines beneath his feet.

As he walked down the hallway, Jim realized he had no idea where he was going. Upon further examination, he noticed he didn't even know what time it was, either. Thanking whoever designed the Enterprise for their insight into dire situations like this, he glanced up to one of the extremely convenient, built-into-the-wall clocks. Ten hundred hours and fifteen minutes. He is due on the bridge for Alpha shift in five minutes.

After the brief initial panic subsided, Jim set off down the corridor with newfound purpose. At least now he has somewhere to be headed towards. Though it didn't take very long for him to take a few headlong strides too many, driving him right into someone going the opposite direction.

Blinking a couple times and massaging the impacted area, Kirk looked around to see whom he hit. Carol Marcus, who was also due on the bridge in five minutes as acting science officer; Spock had signed up for Gamma shift so he could finish his research before bridge duty called.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Captain! I wasn't looking where I was going and I just-" Carol began to explain, looking flustered and blushing beet red. Jim tried to smile to calm her down, but it came off as more of a grimace than anything else.

"Hey, it's fine. I wasn't looking where I was going, either. Since I know we're both going to the same place…walk with me?" Jim offered, the grimace resembling more of a smile than before. Carol's blush dissipated somewhat as she nodded her head. The two began walking down the hallway, at first in silence, but Carol suddenly spoke up.

"Jim, are you quite alright? You seem – distracted." She asked, turning her face upwards to look directly into his. Caught by surprise, Jim couldn't help his slightly bigger than average eyebrows jumping up.

"What are you talking about? I'm totally focused. See? I can, uh…I can recite our entire current mission parameters, not a single pause! If that's what you called unfocused, I think we may need to question your focus, Miss Marcus." Jim tried to joke, tried to turn the conversation back on its originator. This tactic didn't work quite as planned.

"I'm not talking about your work, which is quite surprising, actually," Carol didn't hold back the giggle that slipped in between her words, "I was actually talking about you, Jim, not Captain James T. Kirk." The captain's smirk faltered, but only for a moment.

"If you don't want to talk about it, fine, I understand. But still, having something bothering you, especially if its some sort of personal problem, definitely won't help your efficiency as a captain, even if you can recite the mission parameters without a single pause." Carol let a sad smile appear briefly, as she patted Jim's hand. She exited the turbolift.

Jim didn't even remember getting on the lift. It seemed that Carol's words had certainly distracted him there. Before the doors closed, he sprinted onto the bridge and nearly fell into his captain's chair.

Just a few feet away, Bones rolled his eyes, obviously not amused with Jim's continued antics. Chekov had already announced, "Keptin on the bridge!" in his thick Russian accent, just as Jim's ass hit the leather. Sulu had done a total about face away from the main viewscreen, a mildly interested expression inviting new orders.

Uhura stood up and traveled over to the captain's side, evidently to alert him of some new communication. Jim looked in her direction, no sign of the unfocused, blank stare he was displaying in the turbolift. Uhura cleared her throat.

"Captain, Ensign Briggs is requesting a meeting with you. She's been persistent, to say the least. What should I tell her?" She questioned, folding her arms across her chest.

Jim frowned for a moment. "Well, I'm certainly not ready for anything like that right now, since the Alpha shift just started. Tell her I'll meet with her later, maybe, if my schedule is looking better later," He replied, before quietly adding, "I still need to finish my match with Spock."

With a short nod, Nyota glided back to her station, replacing the earpiece in her left ear. The static from her previous attempt to contact the starbase again still lingered, so she closed that channel.

Now Lieutenant Sulu grabbed Jim's attention. What he would do for a moment of peace to gather his thoughts and think about whatever the hell Lieutenant Marcus just tried to tell him.

"Captain, do we sustain orbit, or should we dock in DS6's docking bay? It would conserve our engine power for any worst case scenario, but it could be risky, since we don't know what could be down there." Sulu said, one arm still lain over the console facing the viewscreen.

"I refer to your good judgment, Lieutenant. Do whatever you think is best." Jim brushed him off, hoping he didn't come off too uncaring. Apparently the damage wasn't that bad, as the lieutenant announced moments later the docking of the Enterprise in the starbase's docking bay.

Jim just hoped that Hikaru's hunch was right. If something risky really was able to get to, or at least control, the ship from the starbase, they might just be stepping into boiling water as he contemplated this.

According to Lieutenant Uhura, communications were still down, even after their docking. It made sense. Though, they still needed to figure out what was stopping communications so they could do a better sweep of the base before moving forward in their investigation. Another beam-down wasn't a very good idea at this point.

Jim tried his hardest to stay on task; thinking about the mission and upcoming decisions he would have to make so he could come up with answers ahead of time. Yet something, no, someone kept steering his thoughts in a completely different direction.

Commander Spock was one of the best and worst things to ever happen to Captain James T. Kirk in his entire life. He could say that without any exaggeration or hesitation, and he'd say it as long as he could communicate in a sensible manner.

Jim didn't know what he was feeling at that moment, since he wasn't a very mushy-feely sort of guy. Half the time he didn't know if he was aroused, angry, or some unholy combination of the two. This time was no better. What was even worse was that a Vulcan, of all people, was driving him to emotional turmoil. In his captain's chair. On his bridge. In his own ship. On an important mission.

He needed a drink, but work beckoned.