Chapter Text
“Quick question,” Jim ran a hand over his bruised abs. “What does it mean if a strong, tall, sexy, Vulcan wants to bench press you?”
His sexual education on Tyresias was surprisingly detailed and judgment-free for all nine species of displaced kids living at the orphanage. But they wouldn’t say shit about Vulcans. When the kids tried to ask, their teachers shut them down by saying it wasn’t relevant to their future. When they kept asking, their teachers distracted them with anatomical drawings of Orions. At fourteen, it worked every time.
He’d held hands with a couple of particularly adventurous Vulcan kids in town, feeling horny and confused as they stroked one another’s fingers. One of them wanted to try human kissing - something he’d only ever seen in holovids two lifetimes ago, back in Iowa, curled up on his dead father’s couch while watching movies with Sam. His first “human kiss” was with an Andorian study-buddy who also wanted to get in some practice in order to impress a flirtatious townie. They didn’t know adults opened their mouths during a kiss, much less used their tongues, so they just pressed their lips together and giggled.
Despite the passive-aggressive denial of any relevant reproductive information, Jim picked up a little by osmosis. Horny Vulcans were so scary and dangerous that sometimes they took a whole month off work just for fucking. Most Vulcan siblings were born 7 years apart. Vulcans didn’t have any balls to kick.
None of that was particularly helpful in his current situation. He was pretty sure that most Vulcans were betrothed at seven and married around twenty one, which meant everyone on the ship was probably married. He had no idea whether they flirted for fun, or if he was reading too much into last night at the gym.
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Is this a euphemism?”
“Kirk, the Vulcans aren’t flirting with you,” Uhura sighed.
Instead of Uhura and Gaila’s dorm room, this week they took his subspace call from Spock’s apartment at the Vulcan embassy. Jim desperately wanted to ask them to carry the PADD around in order to give him a full tour.
They sat on a plush, sky-blue loveseat covered with what Jim suspected were hand embroidered butterflies. Every Vulcan he’d ever met was a total slut for embroidery. Spock probably embroidered his name on his underwear while listening to lectures on moss analogues.
Behind them was a cobalt blue statement wall with an ornately carved cherry wood display case in front of it. He could make out a 12 stringed Vulcan Lyre, some clay tablets behind glass that probably cost more than everything he’d ever owned, several tasteful ornamental water pitchers and carafes, an illustrated edition of Alice in Wonderland, and a Vulcan Bell Rattle.
“Okay, sure. Whatever you say.” Jim looked at Uhura, a twinkle in his eye. “So has he ever just picked you up and…” he mimed pushing his hands up in the air.
“What the hell, Kirk?” Uhura shook her head, more mystified than angry.
“That sounds physically uncomfortable for everyone involved,” said Spock.
“I know!” Jim leaned closer to the viewscreen and lowered his voice. “It’s even weirder if a bunch of other Vulcans stand around and watch. Right?”
“Are you taking your tri-ox boosters?” asked Uhura.
“Please do not embarrass the crew by causing yourself brain damage from oxygen deprivation,” said Spock.
“Would anyone notice?” Uhura rolled her eyes.
“It might take weeks,” Spock conceded.
“You’re supposed to be my Vulcan experts!” Jim tossed his hands up.
Spock turned to Uhura. “Is being used as fitness equipment a common sexual fantasy for humans?”
“It’s new to me,” she shrugged. “But who knows what he’s into.”
“We do, now,” said Spock. “As does a statistically significant percentage of the Academy’s undergraduates.”
“Fine. Don’t help me.” Jim crossed his arms, and instantly regretted it.
“Oh, by the way, Gaila’s sorry she couldn’t make it,” said Uhura. “She’s studying tonight. But she wants to know if you’re caught up on The Stars Live In Your Eyes ?”
Jim blushed as Spock raised an eyebrow. “Tell her I’m up to the episode where Dronar gets arrested for painting googly eyes on the sacred trees.” He stared at the stars passing outside his desk window, unwilling to make eye contact with Spock.
“I expected the Betazed contingent to decorate the park’s obelisk like a phallus,” said Spock.
Jim whipped back to the viewscreen so fast his bruised abs screamed in protest. He stared at Spock, open mouthed. There was no way. No fucking way did Spock, son of Sarek watch his favorite show.
“Don’t tell me you watch that trash, too!” Uhura leaned away from Spock, eyes wide with playful shock. Jim pointed to her, nodding furiously.
“It is one of few popular entertainment programs in Federation Standard with a multi-species cast where the action is not centered around the needs of humans,” said Spock.
“It’s a cheesy soap opera!” Uhura laughed.
“Which is enjoyed by the majority of my non-human students,” said Spock.
That was an understatement. Jim was one of only two humans invited to Gaila’s weekly viewing parties. She kept hers ‘intimate,’ which meant 40 people crowded into a dorm common’s area meant to hold a maximum of 16. His previous group reserved a viewing theater for 100, where everyone had a seat of their own and plenty of room for snacks. He vastly preferred Gaila’s parties, where people were packed in so tightly he had no choice but to sit on a different lap every week.
“I bet they love having a cool professor who gets all their in-jokes.” Jim winked, tapped two fingers to his heart twice, then looked up at the ceiling. Spock subtly tapped two fingers against his lower side, where his own heart resided.
“But the writing is so unrealistic!” Uhura poured them both a fresh cup of tea from a Victorian-style teapot hand painted with scenes from Alice in Wonderland.
Spock accepted his cup, painted with Alice in her blue dress, and closed his eyes as he inhaled the aroma. “The human secondary characters are portrayed quite accurately.” The left corner of Spock’s mouth ticked up half a centimeter, not quite blocked by the teacup.
Jim clutched his bruised abdomen, laughing. “Wow. Uhura. We’ve just been insulted.”
“Is this dumb show why all the non-human underclassmen are wearing charm bracelets this semester?” Uhura playfully glared at Spock over her teacup, which read ‘We’re All Mad Here.’
Spock stared into the viewscreen, meeting Jim’s gaze. Jim stared back, an unspoken understanding passing between them.
“That’s just fashion,” Jim said brightly. “I’ve banged lots of folks wearing them.”
A faint smile ghosted over Spock’s face, quickly replaced by stoic concern before he looked back at Uhura.
“You are the worst,” she said. “It would serve you right if they had a commemorative Jim Kirk Gave Me A STI charm.”
Jim shot her Playfully Seductive Smile #2. “Who says they don’t?” He met her gaze and chewed his bottom lip.
Spock stretched a possessive arm around Uhura’s shoulders. “Query,” he said, bluntly changing the subject, “Where, exactly is the Sh’Raan at the moment?”
Jim shrugged. Not this shit again. Why did Spock have to ruin it whenever they were having a good time? “Space?”
Spock glanced at Uhura, who rolled her eyes on his behalf. “Please be more specific.”
“Deep space? My shifts are in tactical and botany, not navigation. We haven’t stopped at a planet yet. Once we do, I can give you better coordinates.” He twirled the belt of his robe around his fingers, paying more attention to the texture of the cloth than Spock’s words. Every single time they talked he wanted the ship’s exact coordinates and a map of where they’d been.
“Cadet, I am concerned.” Spock ignored Kirk teasing the fabric around his fingers. His mouth pulled into a thin, tight line. “The Sh’Raan did not go through normal channels when volunteering to take a summer intern.”
“Really?” Uhura looked surprised.
“I could not understand why anyone would prefer Cadet Kirk to you.” Spock cupped her cheek. “I was compelled to investigate.”
She leaned into his hand, beaming up at him.
“Honestly? I get it,” Jim sighed, enviously. “So what did you find?”
Spock’s hand slid from her cheek and settled on her knee. “Normally new ships are coerced into allowing interns on board by Captains, Commodores, and Vice Admirals who are owed favors. From what I have learned, an independent Vulcan research vessel previously unknown to him sent a request for an intern directly to Admiral Pike. This is… unorthodox.”
“Yeah.” Kirk dropped the belt and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. Spock had his attention now.
“They initially asked for Nyota. Her presentation on Vulcan at the Translations As Art conference impressed them, and they believed she would be helpful in fleshing out the Universal Translator entries for the newly discovered Kp’tha’ii and their notoriously untranslatable language.”
“Shit, Uhura. That blows.” Kirk rested his chin on his hand. “Pike really did want to get me off-planet for the summer.”
“Did you fuck one of the Moss and Moss Analogues Conference organizers?” Uhura teased.
Jim chewed his bottom lip. “Maybe I fucked the moss.”
“Yeah, I hate you so much,” Uhura replied in a bored tone. She tugged Spock’s arm tighter around her shoulder and leaned against his side.
He gently nuzzled his cheek into her hair before turning stern attention back to Kirk. “However, after Captain Pike notified them that he was assigning you instead of Nyota, the internship was redirected to the Sh’Raan instead of the original ship.”
“That’s weird,” said Jim. “What was the original ship?”
Spock’s frown deepened. The Haulan . They set aside normal duties to volunteer as a relief ship after unexplained tsunamis destroyed multiple cities on the Lichtaq colony. The paperwork said that as they did not know how long their relief mission would take, they needed to reassign you.”
Jim smiled. It did his heart good to know Vulcan science ships were still out there dropping everything to offer aid in a crisis. When he was done with this call he had to write another letter to T’Ree.
“So I could’ve both added to the Universal Translator and taken part in a multi-species relief mission if Kirk here wasn’t such a screwup?” Uhura snuggled deeper into Spock’s side.
“No,” said Spock. “It would be unethical to knowingly subject an untrained student to such conditions. Your internship effectively ended as soon as they accepted the relief mission. What puzzles me is why they, in effect, created a new internship for Cadet Kirk.”
Jim stared down at his desk, lips pulled in a tight line. “I think they took advantage of the downgrade to snag a ship’s pet.”
Spock raised an eyebrow.
“Listen, if Uhura was here she’d be a real member of the crew. They’d probably have her on the bridge - which I’ve never seen, by the way - working shifts alongside the chief communications officer. You’d be holding salons by night and jamming it up on the lyre in the craft room.”
“I’m sorry, did you say craft room?” asked Uhura.
Jim waved her off. “We’ll come back to that. My vibe is that Pike told them I’m a screw up who needed some Vulcan discipline, and they said you know, that sounds like fun. We could use some fun. Send him our way.”
“Vulcans do not have fun,” said Spock.
Kirk and Uhura stared at him in disbelief.
“I propose an alternate theory,” said Spock. “Admiral Pike, and others at the Academy, were not willing to risk Uhura’s safety, and therefore reassigned her internship to someone they would not mourn should the worst befall them.”
“Harsh,” said Jim.
“But not necessarily inaccurate,” Spock replied.
Uhura frowned. “Kirk,” she said slowly, “he might have a point.”
“Et tu, Nyota?” Jim dramatically lay a hand over his heart.
Her gaze sharpened around an angry glint. “I’ve told all my advisors I want to serve on a Starship, but they keep trying to fast-track me into an academic career. Not to sound cocky, but I’ve effectively been promised a tenure track position if I stay.”
Jim whistled. “Damn. That’s hella impressive.”
“Indeed,” said Spock. He slid two fingers to brush against her own. She brushed back before curling a pinky around his.
“I told them to ask me again when I’m 50,” Uhura snorted. “Let me get some life experience outside academia! If I wanted to be a university professor I could’ve taken admission to any of my backup schools.”
“Including Oxford, Stanford, and the Bolian Institute of Inter-Species Linguistic Studies,” added Spock. Kirk rolled his eyes. Everyone knew Uhura turned down Bolian admission for Starfleet. In terms of legendary Fuck You’s, it was right up there with Spock turning down the Vulcan Science Academy.
“I don’t want to study languages like they’re butterflies pinned to a display. I want to be out there on the frontier, learning new ones, helping us communicate with species we’ve never met before. All I’ve ever wanted is to learn about new cultures first hand, but they want me here on Earth, writing papers where I criticize the people actually out there doing the work!”
“You will have an uphill battle fighting against people too afraid of losing you to let you fulfill your potential,” Spock said gently. “You are a once-in-a-generation talent.”
“That’s not just your boyfriend’s opinion,” added Jim. “We all know it. Some day I’ll get drinks bought for me by some species we haven’t even met yet when I tell them the epic legend of the night I finally convinced renowned Xenolinguist Nyota Uhura to take a ride on this.” He folded his hands into a V pointed down at his dick.
Spock tightened his possessive arm around Uhura’s shoulder.
Uhura laughed. “And some day I’ll tell people that I was one of the few cadets in our dorm who didn’t get the Andorian Shake from Captain Jim Kirk because I recognize a walking disease vector when it hits on me.”
“Anti-Virals cleared that up in five days,” Jim grinned at her. “And really, it was a public service. The whole dorm got comprehensive STI tests for the first damn time that year, and it turns out a lot of them were sentient petri dishes.”
“That is to be expected among cadets,” Spock sighed.
Jim pulled up Saucy Seductive Look #3 as he dragged a slow gaze across Spock’s body. “You’re just jealous I didn’t give you the Andorian Shake.”
“Rather than dignify that with a reply, I would like to return to the subject at hand – your safety,” said Spock.
“Ooh. You threatening me, Spock?” Jim rumbled, dropping his gaze to Spock’s lap as he licked his lips. Uhura rolled her eyes.
“I will not be dissuaded by your ongoing attempts to provoke an emotional response,” said Spock. “I am genuinely concerned for your wellbeing.”
Jim laughed. “I’m traveling with a crew full of botanists! They’re obsessed with improving grain protein yields for crops growing on marginal soil – which, by the way, is fucking awesome. I love them for it! For fun,” he waggled his eyebrows at Spock, “they hang out in a big lounge doing origami and embroidery to live music!”
He expected the lutes and bell rattle, but he still wondered how the hell the crew of the Sh’Raan got ahold of a banjo and an autoharp.
“When last we spoke you mentioned they are unusually physically fit,” said Spock.
“Sure, they work out,” Jim snorted. “Have you ever met a Vulcan who really let themselves go?”
“Your exact words were that they all looked like, and I quote, Holovid Versions Of Super Jacked Security Officers,” said Spock.
Jim frowned at him. “I mean, yeah, the culture on this ship is pretty fitness focused, but it’s also pretty art focused. You should see the murals.”
“I want holos of everything,” said Uhura. “The murals sound incredible!”
“It’s not just the corridors,” he grinned at her. “They decorate all the public spaces. I really do wish you were here. I bet you’d understand layers of communication in this art that go way over my head.”
Spock held up a hand to silence him. “You are once more attempting to change the subject. Cadet Kirk,” he locked eyes with Jim. “I am concerned that the Sh’Raan might engage in an altercation wherein you will suffer trauma and or injury.”
“Whatever you think is going on here, Spock, I promise you, I’ve been through worse.”
He forced his features into Calm and Indifferent look #3 despite his blood roiling, anger hot and sticky in his veins. Trauma and or injury? He fucking survived Tarsus IV. He survived being taken from the only place adults actually cared about him just to end up a homeless teenager on Earth. Spock thought a summer onboard a botany ship was too much for him? Fuck that, and fuck him.
“Cadet, you mentioned that Captain Spisee, leader of a botany research vessel, has scars here,” he curled a loop on the left side of his neck, stopping just shy of the jugular, “and here,” he drew a new line curling from behind his ear down the right side of his neck and over his collarbone.
Jim blinked. He had only said Spisee had sexy scars on his neck. He hadn’t specified exactly where.
“Does he also have a scar looping around his thumb, stretching up his arm, between the ulna and radius?”
As if someone stuck a dagger between the bones and through his arm, down to his wrist, and then raggedly cut off his thumb. The thumb beside the thick loop of scars was a notably greener and paler shade than the rest of his body, which was expected in regrowth that took place too long after an initial injury had healed.
“What do you have against Captain Spisee?” asked Jim.
“Nothing. He has my immense and sincere respect,” Spock replied. “But I question his judgment in allowing a human cadet onto his vessel.”
“Why?” Kirk pressed.
“Ask him,” said Spock.
“Ask him what?”
“Ask him why he left his homeworld.”