Jim was an idiot.
What was worse, he knew he was an idiot.
He was an idiot for letting himself fall in love with his goddamned First Officer for god's sake. He fought down another wave of self loathing and clenched his fists. He lay now on his bed, fully clothed in his uniform. Even his boots remained on, his knees bent as his feet hung off the edge of the bed. He'd been to tired to undress. He'd been too tired to eat dinner. He'd been too tired to do anything but lay here. And yet he could not sleep.
The song he'd been listening to on repeat for the last two hours wound down, and the computer started it up again. After asking the computer to replay the song four times he'd given into his madness and simply looped the song on auto play, letting the volume edge up and up, too high, letting it wash over him. His First Officer might hear it through their shared bathroom. Kirk wasn't sure how sound proofed the barrier was. Spock was too quiet for him to make any assessment to that end. It didn't matter if he heard the music. At least he wouldn't hear the pathetic crying that was now drowned out.
Oh, my love, my darling / I've hungered for your touch / A long, lonely time
And time goes by so slowly / And time can do so much / Are you still mine?
I need your love / I need your love / God speed your love to me!
Lonely rivers flow / To the sea, to the sea / To the open arms of the sea
Lonely rivers sigh / "Wait for me, wait for me" / I'll be coming home, wait for me!
Oh, my love, my darling / I've hungered, hungered for your touch / A long, lonely time
And time goes by so slowly / And time can do so much / Are you still mine?
I need your love / I need your love / God speed your love to me!
It was all he could do now to throw himself into the next room and beg Spock to stay on another five years. Through this last five year mission they'd gotten to know each other. They'd worked well together. Hell, they'd been the best goddamned team in all of Starfleet, as far as Jim was concerned, and he didn't think that was an arrogant assessment. It was cold hard fact. But now the mission was coming to an end, and Spock was free to go. And it seemed like he might.
As soon as Jim had gotten his own contract renewed for another five years on the Enterprise, he'd wasted no time in securing the loyalty of his other favourite crewmembers. Bones of course, Scotty, Chekov, Sulu, Uhura, hell even Giotto had all jumped at the opportunity to continue their stay. Jim had assumed Spock would stay as well. Why the fuck had he assumed? He was such an ass. Jim fought down the urge to vomit. He'd rather cry than vomit. A new sob hitched in his throat.
He'd thought they were friends. Spock had certainly led him to believe they were friends. But who the hell knew what went on in a vulcan's mind? Certainly not Jim. So, the late night talks, the endless chess games, the furitive glances, the quiet flirtation... had meant nothing. There had been no quiet flirtation. There had only been Jim, pining over his First Officer like a lovesick schoolgirl. For years. He'd thought of bringing up his emotions many, many times, but it had never seemed the right thing to do. It was so goddamned hard to read Spock. What if he had been wrong? Well, at least he hadn't humiliated himself, he told himself now. Because his hopeful suspicions had certainly been in error.
He'd approached Spock last of all when he hadn't gotten the paperwork for a renewed contract. That couldn't be right. How strange, he'd thought. Spock was usually so organized, so much more organized than Jim. That was when Spock had told him he hadn't decided yet.
"What do you mean you haven't decided yet?" Jim heard himself raise his voice in anger or panic. Maybe both. Probably both.
"There are many challenging and intriguing opportunities available to me at this time, Captain." Spock had answered with his usual cool ease. His fucking goddamned loathsome cool ease.
"What opportunities?" Kirk had demanded.
Spock regarded him with something Jim could not make out. No doubt asking about his other opportunities was too goddamned personal for his First Officer. Well FUCK HIM. He wanted to know. Jim did not back down and held the stare. Spock answered as if he hadn't hesitated, cool as a cucumber. "Two in particular have my interest. There is a place for me as a diplomat for my homeworld, and there is an offer from the Academy. They have indicated they would give me control of their entire science department."
"I see." Kirk had said. His stomach had turned to lead. He didn't have anything else to say, and so he'd walked away. He'd walked away to his room and had turned on his music as loud as it would go and had bawled like a baby. He was going to lose Spock. This could not seriously be happening.
He knew there was nothing he could offer Spock to get him to stay on. He'd long ago requested Spock get the higest possible salary grade for his position. It wasn't a matter of favouritism. Spock was the best officer in the fleet, Jim was fairly certain. Again, this was objective fact. Even the vulcan must realize that. Spock knew his worth. And if he could find a position elsewhere that appealed to him more... well... what could anyone possibly do to disuade him? Jim tried to tell himself that Spock wasn't intending to be cruel. A vulcan wasn't malicious. A vulcan was logical. Spock would make whatever choice he deemed most logical. But damn if that choice didn't gut out Jim's very soul.
Spock stared into the flame restlessly. He was not normally restless when he meditated. He was not normally restless, because vulcans were not restless. It was unacceptable. He told himself that he was restless because he was distracted from his meditation, and he was distracted because of the racket coming from the Captain's room through their shared bathroom. What in all the universe was that music? And why had it been going on for 2.37 hours on loop? He huffed in irritation and tried once again to focus on the flame and slip into the first stage of meditation. Soon, he knew, he wouldn't have to listen to that racket. Because if he did not file for a renewal of contract by precisely midnight on this night, he would not be returning to the Enterprise.
Oh, he'd thought about returning. But he wasn't sure he could stomach one more hour of uncomfortable, infuriating tension with his Captain. The past five years had tested every last ounce of his formidable vulcan control. He was exhausted. He knew, he knew he could not continue this charade five more years. It was killing him. It made his stomach knot until he no longer knew who he was. How could he be vulcan if he harbored so many inappropriate thoughts, inconscionable thoughts for his superior officer? Unrequited thoughts.
He may have even stayed, he knew, if Jim had asked him to. If he had asked him early like he'd asked Doctor McCoy, like he'd asked Uhura, and the rest. But he'd only asked Spock as an afterthought. Spock had thought at the very least that they'd been friends... but to be cast aside so callously, to be asked last of all, as if he didn't care. Spock was no longer relaxing every muscle in his body in preparation for meditation. He began the exercise anew. If only there wasn't that racket next door. Kaiidth; what is, is. At least the Captain was making it easy for him to go as he needed to. If he had asked, really asked him to stay... Spock suspected that his controls would fail him. He would subject himself to this torment for another five years. In a heartbeat.
Jim glanced at the chronometer. 23:08. He checked his inbox. No new messages from Mr. Spock. If there was nothing by 24:00, he would possibly never see his First Officer again. Jim fought a surge of panic that raced through him. He was a goddamned Starship Captain, by god! He'd faced worser fates than this and with less cowardice! He looked to the door of the adjoining bathroom. Perhaps Spock was next door. He was likely right - next - door. And yet he remained unreachable, untouchable.
Soon Spock would no longer be a member of Starfleet, Jim reasoned. His fingers twitched at the keyboard. He attached the song to an email, and filled in the address to Spock. What subject? No subject. What text? No text. Don't incriminate yourself. If someone asks, just say it was a good song that he'd wanted to share. Or say it had been sent in error, wrong address. It wasn't a come on. It wasn't. So it couldn't be interpreted as such. God he hoped it would be interpreted as such.
Spock will hate me forever if he knows what I mean to say with this email. Jim thought. If he doesn't already hate me now. But he couldn't let Spock go without telling him, and he couldn't tell him, and so... He pressed Send.
Spock was still not meditating, and so he did not miss the small sound of an incoming message, and was not disturbed by it. Almost gratefully he left his fruitless endeavor to see what had been sent. A message from Jim. Spock felt little prickles of anticipation crawl across his skin. What was this attachment? A music file? Was this the racket from next door? Within the first few seconds of the song he could tell that it was. But why had the Captain sent him this? To torture him further? With some irritation and cofusion, Spock caught the lyrics, and felt his breath hitch.
What was this? Spock's mind spun in a thousand different directions, seeking any hypothesis of interpretation. Had it been sent in error? Perhaps. But it was clearly... a love song. And not just any love song. A declaration of deeply intimate desires. He barely suppressed a shiver as he felt himself ache at the sound of it. Spock was not well versed in lyrical music. It was too poetic, artistic, foreign to him. It did not appeal to his vulcan sensibilities. But he was not al vulcan, and he could not help himself from reacting to such a bold and straight-forward declaration. The song was refreshingly clear. It was not a mass of metaphors and idioms tangling him in confusion like so many other human works. It was a painful, heart-felt appeal.
If he was correct. If he were interpreting it correctly. Spock fought down all encompassing joy and longing in order to think more clearly. His mind raced. What should he do now? If Jim was asking him... He took a steadying breath.
He needed some sort of confirmation. He needed to respond, and time was running out. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he searched the ships database for an appropriate song. He'd reply in kind. And if he was wrong... he could say something about sharing songs, misunderstanding human custom, etc. etc. It would be easy to not quite lie his way out of that predicament. And if he was right... He refined his search terms and frantically sought out the right song to express himself.
Oh, oh, oh / For the longest time Once I thought my innocence was gone / Now I know that happiness goes on Oh, oh, oh / For the longest time Maybe this won't last very long
Oh, oh, oh / For the longest time
If you said goodbye to me tonight / There would still be music left to write
What else could I do / I'm so inspired by you
That hasn't happened for the longest time
That's where you found me / When you put your arms around me
I haven't been there for the longest time
Oh, oh, oh / For the longest time
I'm that voice you're hearing in the hall / And the greatest miracle of all
Is how I need you / And how you needed me too
That hasn't happened for the longest time
But you feel so right / And I could be wrong
Maybe I've been hoping too hard Who knows how much further we'll go on / Maybe I'll be sorry when you're gone
But I've gone this far / And it's more that I hoped for
I'll take my chances / I forgot how nice romance is
I haven't been there for the longest time
I had second thoughts at the start / I said to myself / Hold on to your heart
Now I know the man that you are / You're wonderful so far
And it's more that I hoped for I don't care what consequence it brings / I have been a fool for lesser things
I want you so bad / I think you ought to know that
I intend to hold you for / The longest time
Jim hadn't stopped staring at his computer until after he'd sent the message. He'd stopped the computer from playing the song any longer, so that he could listen, listen intently to see if he could hear anything from the adjoining room. He couldn't, of course. What did it mean? Had Spock received the message? Had he played the song? Jim wished desperately there was a way to know when -
A new message came in. A reply from Spock. Jim stared. Dare he open it? Would he now need to explain himself? Would he need to lie himself out of this one? That's when he saw there was an attachment. His heart lept. Maybe it was a request for a new contract. He clicked to open it. A song file? That was unlike Spock. Jim rushed to play it.
Oh. My. God.
Did Spock just...
Jim opened the door to his bathroom, and rapped on the door to Spock's quarters.
Spock's heart leapt. Jim. But what did it mean? Was it a good sign?
He rushed to the door and unlocked and opened it. There stood Jim, face stained with tears, eyes red from undoubtedly hours of crying, and yet now... he looked positively euphoric. Jim searched Spock's eyes for any sign... and he saw it. There was no ignoring that look this time, that look of longing he'd sworn he'd imagined time and time again. They moved as one, lips meeting lips hungrily, soul meeting soul. Jim's hands gripped Spock's hips as Spock's own hands gripped Jim's biceps so tightly it would surely leave bruises. It didn't matter.
Jim desperately inched them toward Spock's bed, his hands slipping under Spock's tunic to feel the hardened muscle and soft hair beneath. God he needed more, more, so much more. Spock breathlessly pulled away from the hungry kisses in order to gasp "Captain... Jim." and slow him down, stop him for just one moment.
"Yes?" Jim said breathlessly, diving in to kiss along Spock's jaw, licking his neck. Spock shivered. "What is it?"
Spock pulled away with his last ounce of strength and pulled a paper and pen from his desk. He thrust it toward a confused Jim, who scanned it with worry, seeking to understand. The contract. Already filled out. Only requiring a signature.
"It is 23:57, Captain." Spock said, doing his best to hold himself together.
Jim looked for a moment even hungrier, but managed to taket he pen in his shaking hand and scrawl a signature on the appropriate line, then flung them items on the corner stand and shoved Spock to the waiting bed. Spock allowed himself to be shoved with a contented growl. "Welcome back, Mr. Spock." Jim said as Spock caught his mouth in a kiss once more.