This had to be a dream—actually, this was a dream. A to-much-coffee, to-long-a-shift, I'm-so-freaking-tired type of dream where your mind decided 'guess what? I'm going to make you question your sanity.' One of those dreams that you've heard other people talk about and to yourself think 'wow, someone's on something.' Then you have one and are like 'I think I need a doctor.'

It was one of those dreams where Spock was dressed in a teal suit, with a gold vest, and a teal top hat with a gold band, and was holding out a pristine white glove to you and watching you expectantly. It was one of those dreams where Jim had on a long, flowing lavender gown, with white silk gloves and petty coats and shoes that clicked like horse's hooves on concrete. One of those dreams where he took Spock's waiting hand and let himself in all his princess-y glory be lead out onto a ballroom dance floor, to Bones on a Vulcan harp and Scotty playing keyboard; one of those dreams where he wrapped his arms around Spock's neck and pressed himself as close as he could to the other man just to know he was there, as some sort of quazi-reality, something solid and oh so very warm.

And they danced. And Jim was on top of the world, even if he was in a freaky purple dress and teal was so not Spock's colour, but that was okay because Spock was focused on him and only him. And he quite liked that scenario—the one where Spock seemed to actually care he existed. They spun, and Jim was dipped, and those chocolate eyes were centimeters from him, and warm lips were just there and if he leaned just a bit further he could taste them. Then something startled his dance partner (another reality check that yes Jim, you're dreaming, Spock doesn't get startled), and he was dropped onto the hard marble floor. He heard it too, an annoying, mechanical 'beep beep' that completely ruined the mood set, and completely ruined his chances to find out 'does Spock really taste as sweet as his breath smells?'

He cracked his eyes open to the curved metallic ceiling of his chamber, alarm clock squealing at him in a voice most men would feel akin to their mother-in-law's, and he sat up. It took him a moment to find the screaming creation in the dark, but when he did he hit that 'shut up' button (that he often wished some of his crew had as well) so hard it knocked the little thing off his nightstand.

"Lights, sixty percent."

They faded into life and he blinked rapidly to adjust, before swinging his legs over the side of his bunk. He'd be late for shift again.

Oh well.

A stretch, a shower, and a new clean uniform later, he was taking his sweet time to weave around the corridors of his ship towards the bridge. He decided to prolong the shift just a bit longer, turning into the mess hall to replicate himself a cup of warm coffee that, if it wasn't brown and had caffeine in it, he'd wonder what exactly it was he was drinking. As he waited for the little humming machine to hurl out his life-juice, he listened with one ear to the low buzz of crewman talking over breakfast, or in some cases lunch or dinner. Some chattered about some transitions, others about various alien holidays coming around the calendar's corner. One conversation, however, caught his attention and he mentally backpedaled to find the voice again.

"…and I think Mr. Spock is really upset."

The little black door 'swished' at him, and revealed a porcelain mug of molten caffeine to him. He took it, moving to lean near the replicator and drink it nonchalantly. Mr. Spock was upset? That was quite unusual indeed.

Wasn't that Jim's job though?

"Mr. Spock, upset? That's odd." Hey, kindred spirits.

"Incredibly. But, have you not noticed he and Lieutenant Uhura?" Unfortunately, Jim provided himself mentally.

"Yeah, they've been kind of a couple since the academy. Right?"
"Well, I saw them arguing."

"Mr. Spock argues?" 'You stole my words, Ensgin.' Jim arched a brow, looking very interested in a particular potted plant just in front of him.

"Well, he wasn't. But she was, she was right up in his business, telling him that 'a relationship is a two-way street' and stuff like that."

"Oooh, sounds like trouble in intellectual paradise."
"Jim," He jumped, turning and cursing as some coffee sloshed over the edge of his cup and onto his hand. "…Interesting fern?" Bones arched a brow.

"Shut up, fuck that's hot." He switched hands, shaking the coffee off pointedly in McCoy's general direction. "What's up?"
"Need some ice?"
"I'll survive. What do you need?"
"You, actually." He crossed his arms. "You're an hour late for your shift, and Spock is about to come on a hunt."

"It's been an hour? Gee, I had no idea." He smiled around his cup as he took a sip. "Hey. Can I ask you something?"
"Anything Jim, you know that." He leaned against the wall. "What can I do you for?"
"You know anything about dreams? Like, dream analysis?"
"Dreams? No, I don't dabble in the human psyche. Or any psyche. I'm a doctor, Jim, not a psychologist." He pushed off the wall with his shoulder. "Uhura might. I can ask Miss Chapel if she ever took a class?"
"Nah, it's cool. I just need to remind myself not to eat potato chips before bed." He shoved off the wall with a grunt, running his free hand through his hair. "Damn it, Bones, you made me late for my shift again. Stop doing that, or I'm going to have to report you for…something convoluted and difficult for me to read." He flashed him a smile and wandered out of the mess hall. "Later."
"…" McCoy shook his head, going to get himself breakfast.

"We are supremely overjoyed you decided to join us, Captain," Uhura didn't look up from her station when the turbo lift doors swung open. Jim just flashed her a smile, catching Spock move out of the Captain's chair and to his own station out of the corner of his head.

"How's the course?"
"Warp six, Keptin. No turbulence expected, leaving us about six hours out."
"Fantastic. An easy flight is a happy flight." He stepped up onto the raised platform, then sat down with a comfortable 'thunk.' "Where are we going again?"
"Gavlion-See. In the Forth quadrant." He looked over his shoulder at the back of Spock's head. "A level E planet that is capable of sustaining humanoid life. Its indigenous life, however, is strictly botanical. The foliage is akin to some rainforests. Built by the Orgathians as a recreational sight."

"We're spending leave there?"
"Indeed, in one of their newer facilities."

"Sounds like some good old R and R." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his knees.
"Are and are, Captain?"
"Rest and relaxation, Spock. Just what the doctor ordered."
"I do not believe Doctor McCoy has issued such a request."
"…It's a figure of speech." He looked back over his shoulder. Spock just blinked at him once, before returning to his monitor. Jim eyed him a moment, tried again to picture him in a teal suit and top hat, before returning to the view screen. "Mr. Scott, warp six."

"Aye, Captain."

Spock was, of course, right. The entire planet was one huge rainforest, only humanoid life forms were those few who worked the 'rest resort' they were staying at, and the few other starship visitors who had passed by this quadrant. Jim stretched his arms above his head, taking in a long, slow breath of green plants and moist air.

"Smells good, doesn't it?"
"Lovely," Uhura sighed, looking around the inside of the very Hawaiian-luau-esque resort. "Very open, very…rustic."
"Seems a bit frilly ta me," Scotty mumbled, eyeing one of the orange-skinned woman who took their bags and lead them towards their rooms.

"Oh hush," Uhura looked at him, smiling. "Just enjoy it."
"She's got a point." Jim smiled. "What do you think, Mr. Spock?"
"It will be sufficient in what it is essentially built for." He had his arms crossed his hand his back, examining the architecture with mild interest as they walked. Uhura looked disgruntled for a moment, but lost it to a smile as a pair of small children being chased by their mother ran by. "How curious. She can not get them to obey a verbal reprimand nor command."
"It's called being a kid, Spock." Jim gave him a look. Uhura looked further disgruntled, stopping at her room, giving Spock a eye that would make most men collapse, and shut her door soundly behind her. "…Geez, what crawled up her skirt."
"I do no—"
"Figure of Speech, Spock."

Two days in, and Jim was mush on a lawn chair by a natural rock pool. A waterfall chimed and chortled not to far away, wafting a sweet mist over him as he half napped beneath the duel suns overhead. He sighed softly, curling his fingers around the cool, long neck of a fruity alcoholic something and sipped it, letting it rest on his tongue. Shore leave was wonderful, but he could already feel the itch to be back on the bridge clawing hesitantly at the back of his brain. He took another drink to that. After another few moments of quiet sunbathing, something clouded the light away and he opened his eyes.

"Captain."
"Hello, Spock." Jim sat up, face betraying his surprise. Spock, in blue swim trucks, and a black T-shirt. And flip flips. "Oh my God." He tried not to laugh.
"Please inform Lieutenant Uhura that she is to return to the ship and retrieve my possessions she has since return to it."
"No." And here she came, all sweet curves, caramel skin and red bikini. Mm. "No no /no/. You are on vacation for a week, like hell are you going to wear black pants and a uniform shirt and tricord plants we already know about!"

"Tricord is not a word, Lieutenant."
"I don't care." He poked his arm.

"She's got a point," Jim shrugged. Spock's eyes turned very cold. "I mean, it is vacation, Spock. Let loose a little."
"My current clothing is not a requirement for my own relation."

"You're wearing what I've brought for you and you'll like it."
"Lieutenant, I find your limitations unacceptable insub—"
"Wear it, Spock," Jim chimed in. They both looked at him, with varying degrees of gratitude and spite. "I mean come on. It's not that bad. You've got the body for it."

Did Spock's cheeks turn green just then?

"…" His posture became rigid again and his hands went behind his back. "I find myself unfavorable of this type of attire."
"Looks good on you, just go with it." Jim smiled. "That's an order."

"…Yes, Captain." With that, he turned on his heel and flip-flopped away, leaving Jim and Uhura to watch him and check out that ass. Well, at least let Jim check out that ass.

"…Problems in paradise?" Jim tilted his head, looking up to see her expression shift from irate and sad to neutral. She met his gaze, faulted, then sat down near his knees and looked back at the retreating form of her boyfriend. He arched a brow.
"I can't believe I'm going to talk to you about this." He took a breath. "…I just…don't think he cares. I don't feel it anymore, you know?"
"No, I have absolutely no clue what you mean."
"Of course you don't." She rolled her eyes, then looked down at her lap. "I use to be able to see it, kind of. In his eyes, that he cared. It was just something I could see now and again, and it reassured me that yes, he loved me, even if he didn't ever say it straight out; which was fine, because I understand that about him. But lately…lately, it's like he doesn't even see me when I talk to him. He seems distracted, like his attention is elsewhere. Our conversations are tense and much more formal than they used to be."

"Spock can be informal?" She ignored him.

"And like, about the clothes? Last month when we found out about this shore leave, he assured me he would wear what I've packed for him. And now he's all bent out of shape because he feels 'uncomfortable'." She wrung her hands. "We're arguing a lot, and it just…it feels like we're going no where fast. Like we're running right for a 'road ends, cliff' sign and I can't stop it." She sniffled.

Oh God, Jim though. Don't cry.
"Want a drink?" Nice save.

"…" She nodded, looking up at the sky and taking a long breath. He held out his fruity whatever it was and she took it with a tiny, grateful smile and sipped from the straw. "Thanks."
"I'm not really a guy for long term shit, but. It sounds like you two either need to sit down with a third party and talk this over, or you two are going head first into splitsville."

"Would you do it?" She looked at him. "You know him better than anyone but me. Would you?"
"Would I what?"
"Be the third party?"

"…Sure." The smile she gave him would melt a man's heart right out of his chest.
"Thank you, Jim." She hugged his neck, then handed his drink back. "Thank you so much."
"Uhuh, yeah, sure. I saved a planet, I can save a relationship."

Nope. No he couldn't.

By the end of that evening, Uhura had run out of the room in sobs and Spock was now stiff-backed, and tilted to the left in his seat, staring at the wall like it was just the most incredible new discovery ever discovered.

"…Well." He clapped his hands on his knees, and Spock's attention was brought back to him. "That royally sucked. I need a beer. Want to come?"

Spock stared at him for a long moment, looking almost thoughtful, before standing. "I will accompany you."
"Excellent. Do you drink, Mr. Spock?" He turned, making his way into the hall. Spock was a warm body right on his heels.

"Very rarely, and only on diplomatic occasions where it would be rude to refuse an offered beverage."

"I offer you a beverage and would be hurt if you didn't take it."

"I must decline."
"I'm hurt."
"I'm sure."

They sat and talked for a while, and Jim managed to convince (plead, beg, and order) Spock to have at least two martinis and, much to Jim's amusement, a third by Spock's request. He liked the olives, was his defense. Which wasn't a very good defense, considering Vulcan's weren't suppose to have a preference of things. But, Jim had managed to get him to have three glasses, and the tension was finally out of Spock's shoulders. He was more relaxed in his hair, turning his glass exactly 180 degrees and staring into the clear liquid with nothing akin to any expression Jim could properly classify. He opened his mouth to ask, but Spock beat him to it.

"Am I a monstrosity, Jim?"

Jim stumbled over his words. "Uh, huh?"
"It would seem I have been in error, in my actions towards Nyota." He stopped spinning his glass, blinking slowly. "I have become cold to her."
"Aren't you always cold to everyone?" That got him a raised brow and a blank look. "I mean, isn't your 'I feel nothing' your normal…norm?"
"I do not 'feel nothing', Captain." There went their first-name basis. "I am merely capable of taming unnecessary emotional reactions."
"Like telling Uhura you love her."
"Precisely."

"Do you still love her?"
"I do not." Leave it to Spock to be blunt about that. "However, I do still care for her."
"Like, friends?"

"Affirmative." He looked back down at his glass and began spinning it again. "I am unsure how to, as is common terminology, 'break it to her gently.'"

"Do you want me to?" He picked up his beer, spinning the liquid before taking a sip. "I'm good at that."

"It is not so simple."
"How so?"
"There is…another, who has become a source of emotional attachment." He almost frowned, a flicker of the edges of his mouth. Jim actually grinned.

"Whoa, hold up. You like another chick?"

"That is not what I said," He looked up again. "There is merely another to whom I have found myself attracted."

"Wo-ow." Jim sat back, unable to cover his smile. "Wow. You like another chick."
"Again, Captain, that is not what I said."

They stared at each other, Spock's eyes barely touched by a buzz-induced fog. His eyes didn't waver, and remained hard and obviously alert to what he was saying. Jim's smile began to fade, then became a mask of blank realization.

"…You don't like another girl."
"No, Captain."
"….Oh. Shit."

I got supremely discouraged by this point in this story. I may or may not write the second(final) section. If I should, comment. I may get back into the idea. Thanks guys. –sigh-