Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“...Moved to when? Friday? We had it set on wednesday! Yes I’m sure.” Sulu sighs and looks up for the first time since Jim walked in. 

“Hey?” Tries Jim as soon as it seemed as though the line was on hold. 

Sulu opens his mouth to greet him when the other side of the line sparks back to life. He puts a well kept finger in front of his mouth, and turns back to the phone.

“I told you already- they- how much? I understand, but we... per hour?!”

Jim doesn't need to listen any longer to know what the conversation is about. He could swear they were doing this on purpose. He turns back to Sulu as he finishes the call.

“We’ll let you know. Goodbye.” Aaaand he hung up.

“Vulcan?” Jim asks, although he doesn't need to.

“You wouldn’t believe the amount they paid for that photoshoot to be on wednesday. Apparently they want a new winter collection on paper for next week.”

Jim snorts in a very unflattering way. 

Sulu’s mouth corners turn upwards in return. “They said they might be able to fit you for the evening,” he adds.

Jim pouts. “Sulu! No! Bones hates night shooting. He never flatters me when he’s too tired.”

“How lucky, then, that you are getting paid with money, not compliments,” he smirks back at him. Jim’s puppy blue eyes may be irresistible, but if anyone can stand them, it’s Sulu.

“I’ll see what I can do. Go sulk around Mr. Pike, will you?”

So he did.

Christopher Pike was, as usual, in his office, on the phone. 

For the second time that day, Jim was hushed even before opening his mouth. He will admit the way he slammed the office door open, ready to complain, was a great indication for Pike of what was about to come, but come on. 

He sits down next to Chekov, who sends him a nervous smile. The kid has only been around for a few weeks, and still calls Jim “Mr. Kirk” sometimes in the hallways, although Jim repeatedly made sure he knew how unnecessary that was. 

Jim flashes him his camera appropriate smile, full of white teeth and beautiful dimples. Chekov looks away immediately, like a rabbit that heard a twig snap, and stares at Pike. Jim can see that he’s mentally begging Pike to hang up the phone and dismiss him already.

Pike, thankfully, eventually puts his phone down and smiles at Chekov, ignoring Jim’s presence completely. “Congratulations!” He says, spreading his arms wide, “they loved you!-”

Jim spaces out, more interested in building a sentence in his head that will let Pike know exactly what a catastrophe had occurred. It’s only when the door shuts closed behind Chekov that Pike turns to look at Jim. 

“Pike, they-“ 

Pike puts a single hand up.

“Let me stop you. I already heard.” He says, sitting down in his chair and massaging his temples. 

“We can’t let them keep doing that! I need-“ more time with Bones “-to get those photos done before the end of the week-“ he pleads, and is cut off.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Pike answers angrily, hands moving from his temples to the bridge of his nose. “I was called twice already. You have to go whenever there’s a free spot.” Jim starts protesting, and is immediately overpowered; “Even if it means McCoy will be uncomfortable.” 

They look each other in the eye for what feels like an uncomfortably long time, before it’s broken by Pike’s sigh. “It’s like you forget you’re not in here to make friends.” He says tiredly, pressing a button on his answering machine and asking for the coffee he apparently asked for already, just before Jim walked in. 

It’s not that Jim wants Bones to be his friend- they’re already friends, and he wants more than that. And his advances were getting him somewhere! Until Vulcan got in the picture. And Vulcan?

Vulcan is... well, they’re a Brand. they’re Fashion. they’re a trend setter, but most importantly: they’re messing with Jim’s love life. And all his frustration is pointed at one person and one person only: Spock, Vulcan’s house model. He’s all angles and points, lean, dark and beautiful. He's sharp and cold and unreachable, and so, so handsome. Jim hates him with passion. 

Jim knows, he just knows Spock is the one stealing all his time with Bones. To piss him off. It is a known fact Vulcans only live on money and misery.

Meanwhile, at Vulcan- or, one of the many headquarters of Vulcan, as Vulcan was too big to only have one place in control of it- Spock is getting an enthusiastic diss talk from his superiors. Again.

“Do you know how much money we are spending over your... whims?” Asks T’Pau, raising one perfect eyebrow.

“Ma’am, Leonard has yet to fail me. Neither has he failed you. I-“

“You-“ she cuts him off- “could’ve had that shot another day. There was no need for it to be on that day.” 

“On the contrary. If I see eye to eye with your plans, any later day would mean delaying the launch date in a week,” T’Pau opens her mouth to comment, but Spock pretends he hadn’t noticed and continues, “and as you know, Leonard is the best of his field. Better than any other you could offer on such short notice.” 

Her face is as emotionless as if she was made out of stone, but Spock can see the gears in her head turning. He knows he touched all the points she was concerned about, and had made sure she knew the profits will cover the cost.

“You better be right about this,” she says eventually, picking up a phone and gesturing at him with her hand, already immersed in other affairs. For her, this conversation is just one of many planned in her schedule, and Spock was a mild disturbance, at most.

Spock nods his head and leaves the room, a breath he didn’t know he was holding bursting out. 

Truth is, he doesn't want another photographer. And when getting an appointment with Leonard interferes with one James Kirk’s career? Well that’s just convenient. 

He knew T’Pau would not be happy with his actions, and had the whole speech ready even before he was called into her room. Before his secretary, Nyota Uhura, fully hung up the phone. And now, he succeeded.

“And she just dismissed you? you are one lucky man.” T’Pring pulls another dress off the hanger and holds it in front of the mirror.

They were in T’Pring penthouse, “helping” her sort her clothes and throw away last season’s collection. So far she has yet to ask for neither Spock nor Nyota’s opinion even once, but Spock assumes that by “helping” she meant “gossiping”, and well, Spock is mature enough to admit he’s not above it. But only when it comes to his two best friends. 

“Now in Italian!” Nyota sings songs, twirling her finger in the air from her place on T’Pring’s bed.

She and T’Pring have been taking an Italian course together. Although they both knew at least two languages, Nyota had a knack for new languages no one else could compete with, and has been helping t’pring improve her pronunciation. 

T’Pring lowers the dress and thinks. “E ti ha …appena licenziato? …Sei un uomo fortunato” 

“Sei fortunato” Nyota corrects, although T'Pring wasn't too far off.

Spock crosses his arms. “Luck had nothing to do with it,” he informs them calmly. “I have foreseen the risks and resolved them ahead of time.”

“There are risks that cannot be foreseen,” she argues just as calmly. “Example: you have yet to ask leonard mccoy on a date.”

Nyota looks between them. “Are you keeping that dress?” Upon T’Pring’s head shake she sits up to take it and wear it herself. “It is a bit tragic, Spock. you know he wont stay single forever, right?”

“I have constructed a plan with high chances of success,” he argues, his eyes following T’Pring as she heads back into her walk-in closet. There was only one real variable in his plan, and he had eradicated him this very morning.

“Means nothing if you don't act on it.” T’Pring emerges with a beautiful white shirt and tight patterned pants.

“Italian,” calls Nyota, checking the dress from all angles.

“Non significa nulla se… se non agisci di conseguenza.”

Nyota hums in approval, either about the italian or about the dress. “I'm keeping it,” she informs the room, before changing back to her original clothes.

T’Pring waves her hand, clearly not minding, and folds the white shirt neatly before putting it in her discarded pile.

“On wednesday,” Spock declares. On wednesday he will ask Leonard on a date. nothing could ruin this for him.

Chapter Text

Spock wakes up at 8:00a.m.

By 8:34 he is out of the house. At 8:50 he is at the coffee shop two blocks away from the studio. 

At precisely 9:00a.m. on wednesday, Spock walks through the door with two cups of steaming hot coffee in each hand. He offered to bring T’Pring one, too, but she refused, on the claim she can’t have hot drinks right before a photoshoot. Said model was now walking into the dressing room to get ready. 

Spock glances around, noting and nodding at Scotty and his crew as they set up the lights, before following T’Pring’s footsteps. 

Leonard is nowhere to be seen, but Spock is hardly surprised. Leonard was never much of a morning person.  

He enters the dressing room to find T’Pring and Chapel in light conversation. They both look up and smile as he enters.

“Have you seen the new collection yet?” Asks Chapel, petting the plastic covers of the clothes on the rack near her softly. 

Spock shakes his head and sips his tea before sitting down in the chair, one of Chapel’s assistants immediately showing up with a makeup kit in her hand. He’s about to set the two cups aside when he hears a door slammed. He is up on his feet and out of the room almost immediately, the girls giving him a knowing look.

“Leonard,” he greets, handing over the untouched cup of coffee. It’s a Ristretto, with one sweetener, just like Leonard likes it. 

Leonard takes it gratefully, and the moan of gratification that slips out of his mouth could be considered downright sinful. Spock buries his face in his own cup, mostly to keep himself busy somehow.

“I needed that,” sighs Leonard, already in a better mood. He takes another sip, then looks up at Spock. “You remembered my order?” He frowns.

“Of course I did,” he says, “we talked about it last time I was here.”

“You said It’s too much caffeine to drink repeatedly.” McCoy raises a teasing brow.

“It is. I should not be the one telling you how unhealthy it is,” Spock agrees, hiding a small smile behind his cup. “I could introduce you to decaffeinated substitutes. Much better for your health.”

“Go get ready, you lean figured bastard,” but he’s smiling behind his cup of coffee, too, murmuring something about “being behind the camera for a reason,” before shooing Spock with his empty hand and walking over to talk to scotty.

Chapel looks delighted when he walks back into the dressing room. T’Pring is already ready, wearing a beautiful white coat with wide white buttons, its sleeves widening at the bottom and a white belt at the waist, with a pair of white pants to match. 

She walks out just as he walks in, blowing Chapel a kiss, which in turn makes Chapel laugh. When Spock raises his brow at her, she answers, “Oh, hush now,” and unracks one of the outfits, handing it over and grabbing the tea cup from his hands for safekeeping. “Go on, then,” she says, pointing at the curtains behind her.

T’Pring has already started getting her pictures taken when Spock emerges from the dressing room with a matching black outfit to her white one. 

“Spock! Perfect. Come here,” Leonard points with the camera for him to get in view, and so naturally, he does. 

And it’s easy, from there; Spock’s hand on T'Pring waist, her elbow on his shoulder, so on and so forth. They both know their job. The encouragement from Leonard, who sometimes exclaims, “Beautiful!” or “Oh, perfect. You look amazing.” is but a bonus. 

Spock would usually ignore Leonard’s chatter, for he is a professional, and has heard it all before-

“Bull-SHIT!” calls Chapel when T’Pring brings it up in the dressing room. 

They have just stopped for another quick change, yet somehow a small talk has developed. Spock will forever be puzzled by Chapel’s talent for such things.

“I bet you just don’t want him to catch you smiling. Want to keep that Bad-Boy image you got going on.” 

Spock rolls his eyes, since he isn’t just going to admit she’s right, and steps back into the studio for some solo shoots. Besides, it’s not just his image. It’s Leonard, too. Can’t look too obtainable or throw yourself at someone’s feet at every flattery. And he knows that if he looks at that camera, with Leonard behind it, flattering him, he will smile. Maybe - horrifyingly - even blush, a thought that terrifies him to no end.

So, no. No camera eye contact, thank you. 

Leonard brightens as Spock steps into frame, and that doesn’t bother Spock one bit. He looks wistfully into the distance as the camera clicks and Leonard showers him with directions and compliments at his every move, requesting he move this way and that, and- ‘Oh, this one- Spock, that would definitely make cover.’ 

Leonard doesn’t bother asking Spock to look at the camera, and Spock avoids looking at it as if it will turn him to stone. 

Leonard does so because he knows about Spock’s “image”, as the girls mentioned in the back room. 

Spock does so since he refuses to be James kirk. 

James Kirk was what was called, not in the model industry as much as in Spock’s head, a “camera whore”. He loved the camera. The camera loved him back. He laughed with it. eyed it sensually. Stared deeply into its soul. 

And Spock just knows it's all directed at Leonard. To annoy Spock. What other reason would he have?

He, himself, would never. Obviously. Sell yourself that cheap? Please. Spock is a high standard model. He's working for one of the most successful brands in the world. He could do anything! He could, for example, ask Leonard out tonight. 

“Leonard, would you like to go somewhere after this?”

“Oh Spock, wish I could-“ and to his credit, he did look wistful, “but I have another appointment today right after you. It’s probably gonna take all night. Jim...” and oh, if only Spock couldn’t detect the fondness that infiltrated Leonard’s voice, “he likes his photo taken from Every Angle.” 

Spock could do anything! And the first thing he’s going to do is snap Jim Kirk’s neck the next time he sees him. 

“Of course,” Spock sighs, and is already whisked away for touch-ups on his makeup.

By the time they wrap up, Leonard has already had his seventh cup of coffee, Spock has more layers of makeup on his face than a rodeo clown and has zipped in and out of a whole closet, and it was needless to say; people were looking worse for wear. Only-

“Your day isn’t over, is it,” Spock says, sitting down in the folding chair next to Leonard’s. 

Leonard rubs a slow, tired hand down his face, sighing. “Please don’t remind me,”

“Can’t you reschedule?” Spock asks, already knowing the answer 

“This is the reschedule. They were supposed to be-“ he gestured around vaguely- “now! I mean, before now. This morning. Didn’t they tell you you took someone else’s spot?” 

“No one told me that,” and it was technically not a lie, since no one told him. He already knew when he insisted they double book anyway. At any cost. Looking at Leonard’s eye bags now makes it feel a bit…. It makes him feel like an ass. 

Leonard sighs again, and Spock crosses his arms in an attempt to stop them from wandering over. He looks around to find all the, well, for lack of a better term, “Vulcans”, left, but the place was still buzzing. The set being cleaned, the electricity checked and fixed, new people coming in, new outfits and so on. 

Spock looks back at Leonard, only to find him already looking back. He’s about to ask him out- “any day you want,” he’s about to say, “to make up for the double booking”- but can barely form the words before being interrupted by an enthusiastic “Bones!” 

Oh, Fuck. 

They both look up, and Kirk, upon seeing Spock, slows to a walk. 

Spock turns to Leonard. “I will take this as my cue to leave, then,” he says, getting up from the horrid, wicked folding chair. The things he will do for Leonard. 

Leonard, in return, has the decency to not look too relieved by the chance to avoid drama, and gives Spock a light touch as he goes. 

On his way out, Kirk makes sure to bump into him. “Spock,” He says coldly.

“Kirk,” Spock answers, just as cold, but keeps walking before it would turn into anything more. He’s so much above James Kirk’s level. He may have slammed the door just a little too hard as he left. Nothing you can prove, though. 

Chapter Text

Jim throws himself into the chair Spock was sitting in mere seconds before, and grins at bones, who gives him a tired stare in return. 

“Oh Bones, don’t give me that look, you know I’d never !” 

Bones rolls his eyes at the dramatics, but tells him he knows nonetheless. 

“I’ll be on my best behavior. I'm the best model you’ll ever have!” Jim continues on, and Bones can’t help but snort. 

“Spock brought me coffee this morning,” he informs, raising one eyebrow in a challenge. 

“I’ll bring you two, then,” Jim immediately says, frowning. 

Bones laughs, and it might be short, but it’s already light years from what he looked like when Jim just came in. 

“Well I don’t see any coffee,” Bones says, scanning Jim up and down conspicuously. 

“I meant next time, Bones!” Jim clarifies, laughing and punching Bones’s shoulder lightly. 

Bones smiles, tired but clearly fond, and Jim smiles right back, and for a moment it’s magical and beautiful and wonderful and his name is definitely being called now by someone, which means he should definitely be doing something else, shouldn’t he.

“-Jim!” Chapel says, again , and Jim finally looks up, blinking as if he just woke up. 

“Chapel!” He smiles brightly at her, getting out of his chair to give her a hug.

Chapel, as soon as he gets close enough, grabs his arm and starts pulling him after her to the dressing room. “Don’t you ‘Chapel’ me! Dressing room! Now!” 

He turns to send a pleading look at Bones, but his support won’t be coming from him.

“Thank you, Chapel, get him ready please,” he says, waving Jim goodbye as the dressing room door clicks shut behind them.

“I bought that lotion you told me about,” he tries, knowing it’s the only way to appease Chapel as he is thrown into a chair and his hair starts being combed.

“But did you use it?” Chapel asks, buried under a mountain of clothes. 

“Uhhhhh, no.” But at the fall of Chapel’s face, he immediately adds, “but I will! Promise!” 

She snorts in appreciation, handing him a flannel and a pair of jeans. 

Jim reaches for them and she snatches them out of his grasp at the last moment. “Do not ruin them,” she says, eyes reduced to slits. 

“The jeans are already ripped,” Jim points out, insulted, but he knows she’s right for warning. He’s not the most graceful of people. 

Chapel does not shift her look, nor hands over the clothes, and so Jim reclusively murmurs “Yes, okay...” and holds his hand out for the clothes, already trying to take off his shirt with the other. 

It’s not that he doesn’t know how to handle clothes when he’s modeling. It’s when what he’s modeling isn't clothes. He can remember not to go too far in a nice suit or a tie, but when they dress him casually? It just doesn’t feel like work anymore. It’s fun. He honestly forgets he should stay professional. So, yeah, he might've ripped a few buttons and sleeves, but in his defense, those are Bones’s favorite pictures. 

Also, the clothes are the least of Jim’s worries right now. He’s been looking forward to this photoshoot for a while now, and not just because of Bones. He’s been excited for it ever since Pike announced that this company wanted him, actually. And now, as he bursts out of the dressing room, he can’t help but squeak in excitement as a row of prop bikes waits for him next to the set. 

Scotty is just setting a beautiful vintage white bike on the set as Jim walks over. 

“She's a beaut, ain’t she?” He says as soon as Jim is close enough, patting the machine once or twice for good measure. 

Jim nods, his hands itching with the need to touch the beautiful white exterior. 

Scotty, who knows that look, and may even share it, smiles and leans closer. “I’m sure she won’t be missed too much if you take her on one ride,” he says conspiratorially.

Jim’s eyes widen. “Scotty! For real?” He looks at the bike again with new found excitement once Scotty nods. 

“One round, ya hear me?” He clarifies. “And not a scratch on her, or they’ll have both our heads.” 

“Thank you thank you thank you!” If Jim could, he’d be picking Scotty up and twirling around the room. 

Scotty, for his part, looks around to make sure no one notices. “Kid, I’m not exactly supposed to...”

“Right! Sorry!” Jim takes a deep breath, but his smile shines on. 

“I don’t know what you did, Scotty, but I need this face in frame,” Bones calls from behind the camera, and Scotty decks out of the set. 

Jim looks up to find Bones, holding his camera, an eyebrow raised in amusement, and takes his place next to the bike, sending Bones a slightly flushed smile. 

Jim loves the camera. He loves the sound of clicking, the shifting and leaning as he and Bones arrange themselves around and for the camera. Around each other. Like a dance. 

Bones lowers his camera and gestures with his hand for someone to switch the bikes, a time span in which Jim allows himself to jog over and look over Bones’ shoulder. 

“Ohh, I look good in this one,” he points out.

Bones ignores him. “You think all your photos are good,” he murmurs.

“Because they are! That one too! This one brings out my eyes.” He dodges the elbow Bones aims at his ribs.

“We get it, you’re a beautiful prodigy and we’re all lucky to be blessed by your presence. Can you go back to work now?” Bones says, shaking his head tiredly. 

“You said it, not me!” Jim says, but returns to his place, now mounting a shiny black bike. 

This time, he allows himself less smiles, more smirks. He’s on a bright, new, black motorcycle! Bones called him beautiful! He’s sexy and confident and he knows it. Bones still isn’t impressed, according to the way he rolls eyes at him when they switch out another bike. 

“Chapel?” He calls when Jim walks towards him again. He looks at Jim with slitted eyes.

Chapel walks over, both her and Jim sharing confused expressions.

“I want his hair tousled,” Bones announces eventually, reaching over to comb his hand through Jim’s hair. 

Jim jumps back, heart beating twice as fast then it did a second ago. “Warn a guy first!” He tries joking, but it comes out too breathy.

Chapel nods as if nothing happened, and drags Jim over for fix ups. 

“You think it meant something?” Jim Asks hopefully, looking up at her as he sits down. 

Chapel gives him a huffing laugh. “Save your efforts tonight. He’s on his 9th cup of coffee since around 10a.m., I doubt he knows his own name,”

“Well, I’ll remind him, because I’ll make him scream it,” Jim smirks.

“His own name?” She looks at her handwork and nods, ushering him back to the set. “Maybe You should stick to modeling, Jim.”

After getting Bones’s approval about his hair, many shots, and about 6 other motorcycles, Bones finally calls it off.

“That’s it. I can’t look at your fucking face anymore. We got enough,” he says, handing the camera over to one of the crew and combing his fingers through his own hair in exhaustion. 

Jim appears by his side in a second. “Ouch,” he says, not even pretending to be insulted. 

Bones only grunts and rubs his eyes tiredly. 

From the corner of his eye he can see Scotty waving something metallic in his hands. He brightens. “Hey Bones, let me give you a ride home?”

“Since when do you have a car?” Asks Bones, genuinely puzzled. 

“I don’t, but...” Scotty throws him the keys as he walks by and Jim fumbles to catch them.

“Not a scratch.” Scotty reminds him, and he’s out of earshot again.

“But I got a sweet ride for the night,” he finishes, jingling the keys.

Bones eyes widen. “This is the worst idea anyone’s ever had,” he says, and he sounds almost impressed. Like he never thought he would live to see the day for Jim to outdumb himself. A rookie mistake. 

“Oh, c’mon, Bones! I’ll take you straight home like a true gentleman, and put it right back! No one’s gonna know,”

Bones gives him a skeptical look. “We both know you’re going to end up paying for this bike, right? You won’t be surprised when it happens?” he tries, but it’s a lost battle. 

“Which means you should get used to me offering you a lift!”

Bones is silent for a few seconds, and Jim tries not to look too hopeful while he’s considering. 

“Fine. But if you go too fast I will kick you off the bike,” he says and waves Jim off as his smile tries to take over the rest of his face. “Yeah, yeah, go change clothes.”

And that’s how Jim finds himself riding the dark streets of the city on a beautiful, white, vintage bike, the wind in his hair, and... Bones, at his back, pressed against him and holding just a tad tighter than necessary. He can feel him, cheek to chest pressed against shoulder and back, and he can’t help but let out a laugh. “We’re not even going that fast!” He says, to which Bones tightens his grip even more, and starts murmuring things Jim can’t hear due to the wind whistling in his ears.

“-death machine,” concludes Bones as Jim slows into a stop in front of Bones’s apartment building. 

Jim laughs again, aware of the weight of Bones’s arms as they hold him close. 

“That’s your stop,” he says, a bit regretfully as Bones slowly lets go. 

“Right.” He hears from behind. Bones climbs off the bike, taking deep breaths, and Jim would have given everything- everything, to kiss him goodnight. 

Instead, he says, “No ‘thank you’?”

And Bones says, “Thank you for not killing us.” 

So Jim laughs as he revs the engine on before kicking off. “I’ll take it. 'Night, Bones!”

And if he focuses enough, he can hear Bones yelling “Good night” back.

Chapter Text

“You’re in trouble!” teases Sulu as soon as Jim enters the building the next day.

Jim groans. Already? How did they notice? Even Scotty almost missed it.

“Is it because it’s illegal to look this good?” He tries, a bit desperate.

Both Sulu and Chekov look him up and down.

“Nice try, but that shirt with those shoes?”

Jim curses under his breath. He knew they were too dirty to go with a design top. He looks at Chekov, who lowers his head and avoids eye contact. 

“I’m afraid Sulu is correct, Jim. Maybe if they were white...” he tries as politely as possible. 

“I can’t believe you’re ganging up on me.” Jim pouts, leaning over the counter. 

Sulu has the audacity to laugh. “You brought this on yourself, really. If you need fashion tips you should just call me next time.”

And wouldn’t Sulu love that. Jim knew he could never dress half as pretty as him. Even with his sponsors telling him what to wear, he was still trailing long behind. He may have started a competition with Sulu the first day he joined the agency without him knowing. He may have been losing. 

But Jim is not admitting defeat just yet!

“Pike is waiting for you in the office,” Sulu says, as if he just remembered, and damn! Jim thought he could escape his fate for just a few more minutes. 

He taps the counter a few times, murmuring “Right, yeah,” and pushing himself upright. Just before he turns around the corner he can hear Sulu calling “Good luck” at him, and picking up his conversation with Chekov, who gives Jim a look of discomfort and pity just before the wall hides him from sight. 

Pike says nothing as Jim enters his office, simply putting his current phone call on speaker.

“-completely unprofessional-” says the voice on the other side. 

Jim slumps into a chair and rests his forehead on the table. This is going to be a long one. 

“-the money we lost from that motorcycle’s sale-“

“Will be taken off my paycheck, I know,” Jim murmurs to himself.

“-will be taken off the total paycheck, as will the fixing price-“

“Then don’t fix it!” Jim interrupts. 

Pike shakes his head in desperation, but Jim ignores him. 

“Excuse me?” Asks the representative

“I’ll buy it! It’ll be my responsibility, and you get money from selling it,” Jim explains, ignoring as Pike smacks his forehead and murmurs, “Idiot.”

The line is silent for a while, and then: “We will discuss more of this later. Good day.”

Pike slams the button so hard it is a miracle it didn’t stay stuck in as he removed his finger. He looks at Jim like he lost his mind, and who knows, maybe he has, since he can’t seem to be able to think about anything but last night, and Bones’s arms around him. He just got a free ticket to do it again! 

Pike, on the other hand, does not seem to agree.

“Are you really this stupid?” Asks Pike eventually.

Jim shrugs. He hoped the representative would be the hardest part to deal with, but clearly he was underestimating Pike’s rage. Grave mistake. 

“Don’t shrug at me! You don’t have enough money to cover that! The rest of this paycheck won't last you a month!” Pike sits down, then stands back up. Jim sure has a talent to drive people up walls sometimes.

“Oh please. I’m not living paycheck to paycheck, sir.” He protests, receiving nothing but a raised eyebrow.

“Then what was it about last month when you asked if you could get paid early?” Pike asks, and, well, shit. How is he supposed to explain that he drunkenly impulse bought about 15 blankets to make the comfiest blanket burrito, a flamingo statue, pizza and pineapple floaties for a pool he doesn’t own, a bunch of garden gnomes for a garden he doesn’t have, a huge box of round fluffy plushies of things called “tribbles” (he swears they’re multiplying), a whole pack of mood rings to propose to Bones with, a knife that says “oh no!” When you drop it (you know... so you won’t have to), and a trampoline he definitely does not have enough space in the apartment for?

(Other things Jim drunkenly impulse bought happen to be mood lights for a car he doesn’t possess, a Mjolnir toolbox he’s never touched, a pair of 25 centimeter heels he’s, frankly, a little scared of, and a limited edition magazine of Vulcan with Spock on the cover.) 

“Then find me a well paying job! It’s not like I’m picky!” Retorts Jim.

Obviously it won’t come back to bite him in the ass.

Back to our Vulcan sweetheart, it seems as though things aren’t exactly rosy for him either. 

“I’m afraid I do not understand,” Says Spock, who understands everything perfectly and is trying to stall the meaning of it.

T’Pring is every ounce her usual self; from her thigh high boots to the tight black dress and the stockings that connect between them. From her beautiful hair, tied back carefully in a braid so complicated Spock had refused to believe she had braided it herself until he witnessed it. It was all the same but her expression, and the things she was carrying in her well nurtured hands. 

“I was asked to move to Milan for the Vulcan fashion show, Spock. It is not an opportunity I’m planning to decline,” T’Pring repeated, loud and clear. 

“But we are partners. We always worked together,” he tries countering, although it ends up more like a question. Like a plea. He was aware her name was floating in the list of the potential candidates for Milan's fashion show, but not until this moment had it dawned on him she might actually leave. 

“I apologize, Spock. But I’m sure you understand. It is obviously not personal.” 

And she’s right. Spock is acting foolishly. This is the modeling world. T’Pring has gotten a promotion, and it would be ridiculous of her not to accept. Spock, regardless of personal convictions, should be congratulating her for her chance to succeed and bloom. 

“I should be the one apologizing,” he says, bowing his head. “I wish you luck and the safest travels.” 

T’Pring nods back, and with one last smile, she’s gone. 

The rest of the day finds him aimlessly wandering around, reflecting, thoughts swirling at such speed and velocity Spock cannot seem to be able to focus. More than once the thought, the urge , to discuss the events of his life with someone arises, but time after time, he dismisses them. Who would he even trust enough to share such things with? Shouldn’t he be strong enough to process everything alone?

It is only when he passes the secretary office for the fourth time that he makes a decision. 

They all look up as he enters the room, but no one seems surprised by his presence. Nyota, his personal secretary, raises a knowing eyebrow as he politely asks for the number of the photographer Leonard McCoy, instead of asking her to call. 

“It is not company business,” he explains, the tips of his ears and the back of his neck burning as Nyota hands him a piece of paper with delicate numbers scrawled on it. He retreats to an empty hallway, then to a vacant stairway, before deciding to step outside completely. The phone rings a few times, before Leonard’s tired voice sounds on the other end.

“You’ve reached McCoy’s photography-“ 

“Leonard,” Spock interrupts, for he has no need for Leonard’s photographic skills at the moment, and it seems as though Leonard isn’t enjoying handling customer service either.

The other side is silent for a second, then, “...Spock? Why didn’t you call my personal number?” He asks, confused. 

“I’m afraid we never exchanged numbers,” he explains, ignoring the part of his brain which insists they haven’t done so for a good reason. That Spock should hang up and never mention it again. That this is irrational behavior that could cause retributions Spock isn’t willing to face. He pushes it all down. 

“Spock?” Leonard Asks again, carefully. “Is everything okay?”

“Would... you like to meet over a cup of coffee?” He evades. 

He can imagine Leonard’s from the other side of the line, mouth closed into a thin line, eyes looking over worriedly, hand rubbing at his forehead.

“I’ll be finished in about an hour. Meet me at the cafe a few blocks from my studio?” He asks eventually. Spock blinks a few times.

“Yes. Of course. I will see you there.” He says before hanging up. 

And that is how he finds himself sitting in a lone corner of the coffee shop, a cup of green tea in front of him and a cup of coffee mirroring his own in front of an empty seat. He looks up every time the bell at the door rings, only to lower his head back in shame. Since when is he this enthusiastic about meeting people? His... emotions seem to be getting the better of him today. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. He should compose himself and-

“Spock!” He looks up to see Leonard spotted him from the other end of the shop. He walks over, and Spock can tell he’s a bit breathy. Did he run all the way here? “I'm so sorry, I know you’re punctual. Have you waited long?” He sits down in front of the coffee cup, and Spock carefully pushes it towards him. 

“Not at all, Leonard. Your coffee has just arrived,” he points. 

Leonard takes a deep relieved breath, before gulping down the coffee in his cup. He sighs in satisfaction. “Okay. First, give me your phone.”

Spock blinks in surprise as Leonard’s palm appears on the table between them. “I’m afraid I do not-“

“Oh come on, Spock, I’m giving you my number. You should’ve had it already,” Leonard grumbles, his hand making a grabbing gesture. 

To say that Spock was panicking over the idea of getting Leonard's number would be false, but that doesn't stop him from fumbling with his phone before handing it over.

It seems illogical to become so flustered over such a simple interaction as this, but it shakes Spock so badly he hardly notices Leonard's mouth moving wordlessly as he types the number. 

He hands the phone back as his own phone buzzes, a clear sound that pulls Spock out of his shock. Leonard pulls out his phone, typing a few things into it. 

Spock unlocks his own phone, discovering Leonard has sent a message through Spock’s phone to a new number, saved as 'Leonard McCoy.' 

Spock checked the message, a simple 'it's me' with no punctuation. He puts the phone back in his pocket, the device still warm from the other man holding it.

“There we go,” says Leonard eventually, setting his own phone on the table and grabbing hold of his coffee before looking up at Spock. “Alright. Spill.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“Come on, Spock, we haven't known each other since yesterday. Something is clearly wrong and you clearly need someone to talk to, so, spill it.” Leonard leans in closer, coffee held secure between his hands as he stares Spock down intensely. Leonard’s phone buzzes. He ignores it. 

“It is...” BUZZ “something of the sorts-“ BUZZ “-I suppose,” Spock sighs into his tea, the steam warming his face as he does. Leonard nods attentively. “It’s simply that-“ BUZZ “-shouldn’t you answer that?” Spock turns to look at the buzzing phone. 

Leonard flips it over to reveal a chain of incoming messages, one after the other. Spock feels a pang of jealousy as he recognizes the name as “Jim”. Then another pang, this time of smugness, as Leonard turns the phone again without answering any of the messages. He pushes the phone away and turns back to Spock. 

“It can wait.” He announces, and Spock’s lips twitch just so. He finds his thoughts tumbling out of his mouth and onto his companions ears with ease, because Leonard prefers him to Kirk. He saw it himself. He’d rather listen to him than to Kirk, and if that alone didn’t elevate his mood, speaking his mind to someone he appreciates sure does. 

Chapter Text

23 unread messages:

“Bones?”

“BONES”

“B”

“O”

“N”

“E”

“S”

“Answer meeee”

“U @ work?” 

“U won’t believe wat happened!!!!”

“Ok I’ll just tell you”

“I got to keep the bike!!!”

“Holy shit right?”

“Anyway we should meet tonight”

“Promised Sulu I’ll hook him up with that cute guy ben”

“Bring ben with you!”

“WHATS MORE IMPORTANT THAN ME BONES Y WONT U ANSWER”

“OH GOD PIKE IS CALLING ME”

“WE NEED TO MEET TONIGHT”

“ASAP”

“SEE U AT THE BAR”

“9?”

“BRING BEN”

Not a single indication they were acknowledged at all. Jim looks down at his phone again to make sure. Seen, but not answered. Bones is ghosting him! Was he being too pushy? Did he say something wrong? Should he apologize? Should he-

“Your brain is working so hard I can see smoke coming out of your ears.” says Bones as he sits down in the bar chair next to his. 

“Bones!” He calls, voice so thick with relief he takes a whole shot immediately after to cover it up. 

“Didn’t see your precious bike outside. Someone stole it already?” His friend arches a brow and flags down the bartender. 

“I... might’ve exaggerated when I said the bike was mine,” Jim admits bashfully

“Oh?” Bones replies, amused but not surprised. 

“It’s being negotiated.” And it’s true! It is! It’s the best offer they would get, and they know it. He and his beautiful bike will soon reunite. 

Bones nods in fake seriousness, and Jim can’t help but nudge his shoulder with his own. “Shut up!” He says, but they’re both laughing. 

“So I brought Ben, like you asked,” Bones points out as his drink arrives, and Jim finally notices Sulu is no longer pestering and poking jokes at his expense. He’s been at it all night; about how tragic Jim was looking, nursing a bottle of beer he didn’t enjoy, moping over being stood up by his boyfriend, while Sulu, with newly and beautifully cut hair and gold winged liner, looked ready to get on the dance floor and get that boy he so desperately desires. 

Jim turned his head just enough and, yup, the two were together alright, chattering animatedly over the dance floor’s deafening music. 

“What’s your plan to... hook them up?” Bones ask, making Jim turn back around. 

“I was kinda counting on getting Sulu drunk before you came, but...” he slams down another shot. 

Bones eyes widen. “How much alcohol did you have already?” He asks, but Jim just waves him off. 

“Oh please, Bones. Anyway, I did my best. From here it's on them to confess or whatever.” 

He leans his head on his fist and stares as Bones accepts his drink from the bartender. And stares as he lifts the glass to his beautiful lips. And stares and stares and-

“Nope. Nothing more than cocktails for you for the rest of the evening. I can’t believe you’re already drunk.” Jim had barely noticed he was lifting another shot glass to his lips until it was taken from him at the last second. 

“I am not drunk. I will be in about...” he glances at his bare wrist, “20 minutes,” he announces, trying to steal the shot back. The result of him and Bones, chest to chest, as Jim pushes and Bones slides, was not what Jim was aiming for. But he thanks god that’s what he got. 

He gives in eventually, not without sticking his tongue out at Bones like the mature adult that he is. 

“Get yourself a nice cocktail with an umbrella, Jim. I didn’t say stop drinking,” Bones rolls his eyes as they finally settle back. 

Jim murmurs grouchily. 

“‘Scuse me?” He asks

“I said I didn’t see you so worried this afternoon! You know, when you completely ignored me?” He pouts, before lying his warm cheek on the cold bar. Oh, that feels really nice. 

“I didn’t- get your face off the table, it’s dirty- I was busy!” Bones says, and it’s hard to see in the bar set of lighting, but he can see Bones is blushing. 

“I know you’re dedicated to your work or whatever...” he pulls his head up as requested, “but that was cold.”

“I wasn’t working,” Bones admits, downing whatever drink the bartender set in front of him. 

“Then why-“

“I have a life, Jim! I meet people, I take breaks!” He cuts him off, throwing his free hand up. The other one is clinging to his drink like a lifesaver. 

Jim stares for a second. Two seconds. Three. He blinks. He opens his mouth. He blinks twice more. He takes a deep breath, and decides maybe ordering a cocktail isn’t the worst idea Bones has offered. 

“C’mon, Jim. You’re making me feel like I cheated on you” Bones says in an attempt to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work, since he is right, and Jim feels cheated on. 

“You could’ve texted ‘busy’” he murmurs, sipping his cocktail. “Or ‘not now’ or- it wasn’t nice of you to leave me on read!” He says, and oh god, he’s being an emotional drunk! He can feel the tears burning down the corners of his eyes, and shuts them tight. This is not how he wanted the evening to go. 

He feels a tender hand on his shoulder. “You’re right,” Bones says, and whatever he sees on Jim’s face, he doesn’t seem to like it. “I didn’t mean to-“ he looks for the right word before sighing, “I promise I won’t do it again, Jim. I'm sorry” 

and oh, if the tears were a threat before then now they were almost impossible to stop. Jim uses every fiber of his drunk being to not jump at Bones and kiss him there and then, against that dirty bar. He leans back against the counter to cool himself down. 

“You’ll catch something if you keep touching this with your face!” Bones snaps at him, but Jim just groans. “You’re killing me, kid. I already apologized!” 

“It’s not that, it’s just- I had hell of a day,” Jim admits, turning to look at Bones. 

Bones’s eyebrow climbs up in a silent invitation. 

“I got a job offer but it’s...” he hesitates.

“If it’s too- invasive, or-“

“No! No, it’s just..” Jim takes a deep breath. “It’s from Vulcan.”

Bones’s second eyebrow joins the first. Jim can’t hear him whistling, but he can see his lips twisting. “Offer more than you can refuse, didn’t they,” he says, not quite a question. 

Jim nods miserably. “The bike shaved off all my paycheck. I'm broke,” he admits, looking away, as if that will protect him from Bones’s upcoming rebuke. 

“The- dammit Jim, the stupid bike?”

“Hey! I stand behind that decision!” He declares

“Then suck it up and take the job offer!” Bones shots back. 

And well, when he says it like that...

“I hate it when you’re logical,” Jim points out. 

Bones snorts. “You should get used to logic if you’re going to work for Vulcan,” he informs Jim in amusement. 

Jim just groans again. 

Chapter Text

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Bones was standing at his door. His shirt half unbuttoned, hair messy. His lips were swollen from kissing Jim. 

He was kissing Jim. 

They are stumbling, leaning against the door, against walls, against the counter in the kitchen. 

“Jim...” Bones breathes, like that’s the most natural thing in the world, and it takes Jim’s breath away in return. 

His arms slide down, down, grabbing Bones’s, holding them above his head, kissing his ears, neck, shoulder. 

“Let’s go to bed, Bones,” Jim offers, breathless, and stares as Bones is splayed across the sheets. 

Jim is spiraling down, down, down. He is lost in Bones’s eyes. In his lips, his skin. How beautiful he is in his bed. How much he fits there. Oh, he could stay like this all night, hands intertwined and hearts beating. He would stare at him forever, if Bones allowed it. He dares not to look away, to blink, afraid if he closes his eyes, when he opens them-

It was a dream. 

Jim groans, blinking slowly at the ceiling. A light shines in from the window, hitting him directly in the face. Rolling over and grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he can’t help but feel the bed is twice as big as when he fell asleep, and thrice as empty. He could still feel Bones’s hand in his. The texture of his lips. It was so real. It was so...

The hour is 1:12p.m., and a few missed calls are expecting him as he clicks his home button. He rubs his face tiredly and shuts the phone off. He needs to take a shower before he talks to anyone. Even Sulu.

...Especially Sulu. 

He returns the call about an hour later, after having showered and brushed his teeth, drank a cup of coffee and thanked god for sleeping off the hangover he should’ve gotten after last night. 

Sulu, it seems, wasn’t as lucky. 

“Where the fuck have you been? Pike’s turning worlds to get to you,” he snaps as soon as he answers the phone. 

“Good morning to you too. You sound like shit!” Jim tells him cheerfully, sipping his coffee. “Did you at least get anywhere with Ben?” He adds as an afterthought. 

“Come to work today and it’s going to be your last day on earth,” he warns, voice so venomous Jim decides not going to work is a great idea, actually. “I’m transferring you to Pike.” And just like that, his voice disappears, replaced by study beeps signaling a busy line. 

Jim puts his phone on speaker and throws it at the couch, getting up to make himself toast. 

He opens the fridge thoughtfully, contemplating putting butter on the bread, but he remembers who he’s about to sign a contract with and sighs sadly. He should probably watch his shape, now that he’s going to work for Vulcan. He’s heard stories about their strictness. 

Just toast it is, then. He is just inserting the bread into the toaster when Pike's voice starts echoing through the apartment. 

“Where the hell were you? They called about your motorcycle, I had to tell them I will call them back when I grab a hold of you- that was 3 hours ago, Jim! 3 hours!”

Jim’s ear perks up at that, and he runs back to the couch, but pike isn’t done.

“They called from Vulcan, too! Asked if you signed the contract, and when’s the earliest they can book you for measurements.” 

Jim opens his mouth again to respond, but to no avail. 

“Obviously I said Monday morning would work-“ he takes a big sigh when he hears Jim’s high pitched whine- “oh, I’m sorry, that won’t work for you? If only I called to ask you- wait. I did. You’re going over to Vulcan along with the sun, and don’t be late.” 

And isn’t that peachy. The toaster dings, and the toasted bread pops up, but Jim seems to have lost his appetite. 

“Wh-“

“I’ll tell Mr. Sulu to text you the details,” Pike says, and Jim wants to scream. He mutes himself and makes a frustrated sound, walking up to the kitchen and angrily plating his toast, murmuring curses. His friendship with Bones sure changed him. 

“Jim? Are you there?” 

He falls ungracefully to the couch and unmutes the phone. “Yes, yeah, I'm here. If we can just go back to the motorcycle issue...” 

He takes a bite from his toast and waits as the familiar beeping sound comes back on. He considers texting Bones about this, but he knows he’ll get no sympathy from him. He slumps lower on the couch and eats his toast silently. 

“Mr. Kirk?” Pike’s voice comes back. That’s how he calls Jim when there are clients around, to let Jim know he better behave. Jim hums back. “I'm on the line with the representative from yesterday...”

“We considered your suggestion,” the representative cuts in. Straight to business. 

Jim rolls his eyes. Typical businessman. 

“We agree to sell you the motorcycle- full price, of course. If asked, you will tell them you only buy from us, and...” 

Jim tunes out, making rude gestures at the phone before getting up and sinking his plate. The representative is still talking when he comes back. 

“...it's all in the contract, we will fax it to you, and expect a response in...”

Jim stifles a groan. He hates bureaucracy. He hates sitting around listening to some jerk telling him what he should or shouldn’t do. And when you’re a model? That’s all people do. 

“Well, Mr. Kirk? Do we have a deal?”

“Deal! Yes!” He jumps, relieved. 

“Thank you for your patience thus far,” Pike cuts in, making sure Jim won’t say anything else, “and it’s been a pleasure to discuss this. Good day, Mr. Kirk, and don’t forget your measurements on Monday.” 

And then blissful, beautiful, precious silence. 

His phone dings once, as Sulu sends him the details for Monday, but apart from that? He’s free. 

Like a true poor person having a somewhat bad day, Jim finds himself heading uptown to a shop district full of things he absolutely cannot afford.

He walks into brightly lit and wide spaced shops, eyeing clothes and accessories with interest and immediately backing down when catching sight of the price tag attached to them. how can Sulu afford dressing up like he does everyday, he did not know. Does he have a second job? How much money does a secretary get? Is it because he doesn't spend hundreds of dollars on pop up amazon ads?

Nah, that can't be it.

After a lot of life changing decisions in front of the milkshake bar, he’s equipped with mango flavored bubble tea and a picture of said drink, sent to Bones with the caption “you’re one in a melon!” 

“I hate you” is the only response he gets back. 

“Orange you glad we’re friends? :(“

Bones does not bother dignifying that with an answer at all. 

He’s walking across the street back towards his place when a neon sign catches his attention. “lost and hound”

The place was by no means new, and Jim had noticed it before, only now he could also see a paper taped to the glass door, stating “play hours! cats and dogs of all ages. free for adoption” , and Jim is pulling at the door before he can think twice- then pushing it, as the sign clearly suggests. 

The door leads Jim into a pretty tight room with seating areas bunched near the walls and a wide counter in the middle. from the corridor behind the counter he could see little fluffy dogs moving around in the back room, and if he wasn't sure why he came in a moment ago, now he absolutely has to see the dogs zooming around. He just does. 

He smiles at the employee manning the counter and enthusiastically heads down the corridor, then pauses halfway through.

Even a hundred puppies couldn't replenish his mood now. 

Spock is here.

Jim stands just out of sight as the graceful and dignified bastard sits in the corner of the room with his legs crossed, his posture infuriatingly perfect, and a cluster of kittens climbing over him. 

What. A. Fucking. Asshole. Can’t he let Jim have one free evening without popping up everywhere he goes? How dare he find this place before him, and look soft and off-guard and… happy? Like Jim buys that shit. Spock is never happy. Even when petting the cutest little black cat.

But even so, he can’t seem to look away. He watches as a cat climbs his way up to Spock’s shoulder, and settles right in the crook of his neck. Another is kneading his thigh, purring so loudly their tiny body is shaking.

Someone should warn these kittens about who they're dealing with. He can't believe anyone would enjoy Spock's company in any way if they knew what a pretentious prick he was.

The sound of steps behind him and the curious “Sir?” snaps Kirk right out of his creepy stalker tendencies. He turns to face the employee from the counter and steps back.

“Oh, uh, didn't see you there!” Jim says quite fucking obviously.

“Are you going to step inside?” the employee asks. they don't seem to have malicious intent in their voice, but Jim feels incredibly stupid anyway. 

“Yeah, uh, not today, I think. I'll come back another time,” Jim flashes them a blinding smile, already stepping back towards the front door. 

The employee opens their mouth, but Jim beats them to it. “Save the fluffiest dogs for me! Okay! Bye!”

Phew, he was very close to making a fool of himself. Crisis averted.

Chapter Text

“Mr. Kirk. Welcome to the Vulcan family.”

The Vulcan secretary was one of the most beautiful women Jim has ever seen. Her black skin was glowing and her black hair beautifully braided, Jim couldn’t help but ask for her position, because no model of her beauty should tend to newcomers.

He got a sharp laugh in return. 

He chose to interpret that laugh as “they asked, and I declined, many times, because I would never become a puppet of the industry,” and not, say, as “you think I’m beautiful enough to be a model here? Please,” because, wow. she so was. She was too pretty to be just a secretary at a modeling agency, but thats fucking Vulcan for you. 

“Follow me, please,” she says, still amused, and Jim has little choice but to fall in step behind her as she tours him the building. 

The Vulcan building is huge, to say the least. Each corridor leads to another, and they are all full of doors from both sides. Most of the doors are closed, but Jim finds himself peeking into the ones creaked open. 

Meeting rooms, set rooms, dressing rooms, and in almost every room- someone beautiful. 

They can’t all be models, Jim frowns to himself. Do Vulcan only hire good looking people? Or is it just a coincidence Jim finds himself attracted to each and every one of them?

“Right here,” she says, standing in front of a closed door and waiting for him to catch up. 

“You know, I didn’t quite catch your name,” He points out as he stands in front of her, sending her a charming smile. 

She snorts and opens the door, revealing...

Revealing...

“Mr. Spock, this is your new partner, Mr. Kirk,” she tells the- uh- kinda naked man in the room, in a somewhat amused voice. They were clearly sharing a joke Jim did not understand. 

‘Mr. Spock’ turns around, revealing a very naked chest and a trail line leading... oh god. 

“Mr. Kirk,” Spock says cooly, and just like that, Jim remembers exactly who he’s standing in front of. 

“Spock,” he shots back, before turning to the secretary. “I think there’s a mistake-“

“We don’t make mistakes,” says Spock, just as she shakes her head and takes out her phone. 

“There you go- see? 9a.m. measurements for Spock and Kirk. We have to see the outfits look good together as well as on your body.” 

He can’t argue with that, can he.

“The dresser will be here shortly. Get naked.” She says, and disappears. 

Jim turns back, finding Spock already looking at him. 

“...a little privacy?” Jim asks, to which Spock raises an eyebrow. And yes, okay, a stupid thing to ask from someone as they stand in front of you in their underwear, but...

Ugh. Whatever. 

Spock says nothing as Jim takes off his shirt, which Jim is grateful for. It gives him the courage to take off his pants as well. He wonders if Spock is looking. He wonders if he likes what he sees. He wonders since when he gives a shit about the opinion of Spock , of all people. 

Spock does not seem concerned by such things, as he sits down in a chair nearby, perfectly postured, and looks as if each and every single thing in the room interests him more than the company of the other man. It boils Jim’s blood. 

“...So-“ he starts, looking around. 

Spock turns an expressionless face his way, and Jim wishes he could punch it off of him. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depends who you ask), it was then that the tailor walked in. 

“Who’s first?” they ask happily as soon as the door shuts behind them. 

“Me,” says Jim, just as Spock rises out of his chair and says, “I-“

They both turn to look at each other. 

“I will take significantly less time than you, therefore it is logical I go first.” Spock says calmly.

“Yeah? Or do you just want more chances to stare at me?” Jim says, confidence covering assumption, turning it into facts. “I understand how you might want to grab a piece of this, Spock, but please. This is a workplace.” He smirks at him. 

“None of what you said has any base in the situation. You’re being petty,” Spock says, and Jim frowns at him. The man barely looks ruffled. 

“You’re being greedy!” he answers.

“That is illogical.”

“Your face is illogical!”

“Hey, you two...” the tailor interrupts, but looks unsure as two pairs of eyes- one flaming hot, one burning cold- turn to them. “Would you like me to come back later?”

“Yes!” Jim says at the same time as Spock, who says “no.”

They turn back to look at each other.

“That would be a big waste of all of our time,” Spock points out. 

“So is this argument. The logical thing to do here is quit,” replies Jim. 

Spock blinks once. Twice. Before turning to the tailor. “Mr. Kirk will go first,” he tells them, sitting back down. 

Jim grins smugly at Spock as the tailor finds the right outfits and hands them to Jim. Jim holds them all in confusion, but refuses to show it. He picks one at random and starts putting it on, refusing to look at Spock.

He... will admit, now, to himself and himself alone, that maybe there’s a possibility that Spock could’ve, might’ve, been a little right, and should’ve gone before Jim. Perhaps. But he pushes it aside almost immediately. He won fair and square. 

The tailor, apparently, is not much of a talker, and prefers sticking their needles in Jim silently. 

Spock, as it appears, is not much of a talker either, which is just fine by Jim. He’ll just have to fill the silence himself. 

“...And so I took him on a ride on my bike, 50’s movie style, ya know? He’s holding onto me from behind and it’s like- Vacation in Rome? What’s that movie called? With Audrey Hepburn?”

“Roman holiday,” Spock supplies, but Jim chooses to ignore that. 

“Well anyway , I drop him by his house and I'm so nervous I can’t even kiss him good night, or, I don’t know, ask if I can kiss him good night. Either way, the next day I buy the bike...”

The tailor is nodding along to the whole story, which is how Jim knows they had not listened to a single word. Spock, on the other hand, is completely still, head tilted attentively, and a focused expression on his face. He seems as if he wants to say something once in a while, but holds his tongue. Jim, of course, does not care at all. 

“Done.” The tailor announces, just as Jim is about to launch into a story of how he and Bones once egged Bones's ex wife’s house on halloween, and how absolutely brilliant Bones’s smile was as they ran away from the sound of a police car, laughing. 

Jim closes his mouth and looks at the tailor. 

“Your measurements. They’re done. Keep this on while I adjust Mr. Spock’s outfits, please,” they tell him politely. 

Spock rises from his seat gracefully, leaving no choice for Jim but to sink into the now empty chair. 

Spock is right- God, Jim is getting tired of that sentence- his measurements are much faster than Jim’s. 

And boringer. Jim taps his fingers, bounces his knee, stares at Spock’s ass- realizes he’s staring at Spock’s ass and looks away- looking at the ceiling, and groaning. He's mostly groaning.

“Everything in order, Mr. Kirk?” Asks the tailor. 

Spock, in his kindness and grace, spares a glance in Jim’s way. 

“This is taking forever , I'm full of pins , and my phone is almost dead,” he complains.  (Jim loves complaining. It’s how he makes friends! And if they can’t handle him at his most annoying... they’re just not friends to Jim Kirk material. He can understand where his name as a diva came from, though.) 

“We’re just about done, I just...” the tailor appears to be genuinely concerned, which was not at all Jim’s intention. 

Jim sighs dramatically. “ Fine .” He slumps back on the couch.

If he listens very closely, he might hear Spock sighing silently. But why would he. 

Chapter Text

“Did you sig-“

“Yes! Yes! I signed everything! Swear! Promise!” Jim reaches over the desk more pronouncedly. 

Pike sighs and barely hands over the key, as Jim snatches it right out of his hand. 

“The Vulcans will arrange a photoshoot soon. I will tell you the details when I know them,” informs Pike. 

Jim immediately sits up straighter. “About Vulcan- can we-“

“If you’re going to complain - about anything - then no. I can’t do anything about it,” Pike says tiredly. 

“But- Spock!” He pouts. “He’s the worst . Do we have to work together?” 

“If they assigned you a partner... yes. You do. Actually-“ he starts dialing someone. He looks up at Jim as the phone rings. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ll make an official release out of it. They love the attention. Be careful of paparazzi in the next few days.” 

Jim nods, already dreading the next few days. No. The next... however long the deal with Vulcan would take. How long did he sign up to, again?

Never mind. He has a new bike to check out.

He waves Pike on his way out. 

Pike barely acknowledges him leaving.

True to his word, Jim does indeed return to “lost and hound” .

“Puppies, Bones! Puppies!” Jim repeats, even though he knows Bones heard him perfectly the first time. 

“Plural? Are you sure you shouldn’t start with one and go from there?” Bones sounds... not as enthusiastic as Jim was hoping for. 

He was laying in the back room, a puppy in his lap and another playfully pulling at the other end of a rope Jim is holding in his hand. Bones’s voice can be heard from the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder- completely flabbergasted. 

“You need to see their pics, Bones. It would be a crime breaking them apart! And I’m responsible! I can take care of two pups!”

Bones murmurs something, but before Jim can call him out, he says, “Aren’t you too busy for pets? That’s what you told me when I said you should get a hobby,” 

Jim snorts. “No. I barely travel. And when I'm not home you can feed them!” 

“Me!?”

“...Or someone else. I'm sure Sulu would love to. Or Chekov.” The line stays quiet for a few seconds. “...don’t be mad, Bones,” 

“I'm not- mad .” Bones sighs. “Don’t drop responsibilities onto me like that. I have enough on my shoulders,”

Jim looks at the floor, mentally kicking himself. “Yes. Right.”

Bones seems to want to add something, but falls quiet. “I’ll call you back.” He announces, and hangs up. 

The rope slips from Jim’s grip and the puppy runs away. He can’t seem to stop messing up lately. Maybe he shouldn’t get the puppies after all. Maybe he might just mess that up as well. 

his phone dings, and the puppy jumps out of his lap. He curses and stands up, heading back out as he's checking his messages.

He climbs onto the bike, only now having realized dogs can’t ride a bike, whether he would’ve taken them or not, and with one last yarning glance at the shelter, drives away. 

When Bones calls back, Jim is already in his apartment, scrolling through Netflix for- anything , really. 

“Sorry about that. Business call.” Bones says. 

Jim hums, muting the TV. “Vulcan?”

The line is silent for a few seconds. “How did you know?”

“Got a text update from Sulu. Tomorrow morning? Couldn’t you have set it at... I don’t know, noon?”

“Vulcans are very thorough on these things. Setting a late time makes you seem lazy.” Jim can hear the tiredness in his voice. He clearly hates the semantics just as Jim does. “So, you got those puppies?” He adds when Jim stays quiet. 

“...No.”

Bones hums, in a way that feels very ‘told you so’-y. 

“Whatever. See you tomorrow, Bones.”

“See’ya tomorrow, Jim.” 

Something wasn’t right. The entrance to Bones’s studio was packed with vans. You did not have to be a genius to realize that they were not supposed to be there, yet it was only when people with cameras jumped out as soon as he parked his bike that Jim fully comprehended the situation. 

Well. Fuck. 

“Mr. Kirk, we see you got a new motorcycle, is this related to a new path-?”

“Mr. Kirk, we have heard rumors about your relationship with-“

“Mr. Kirk! Is it true you’re a Vulcan now?”

“Jim! Get in here.” His savior.

Jim turns to look as Bones opens the door to his studio, ushering Jim in. 

Jim gives the paparazzi a blinding smile and waves them goodbye as he tucks beneath Bones’s arm and into the studio. 

“This is my property! Get the hell out, you heard?” Bones slams the door in their faces and turns around. 

“If they’re not gone by noon, I’m calling the police.” 

“A wise choice, Leonard.” 

Jim turns to look at the voice. Great. Spock is already here. Of course he somehow avoided the rush. 

“Alright, you two. Go get ready,” Bones says, ushering him and Spock into the dressing room. 

Chapel is already waiting for them, expression surprised and amused. “Why, when McCoy told me... I didn’t believe it!” She says, looking between the two. 

Jim glances at Spock, who already seems to be looking back. He quickly looks away. 

“I'm afraid I don’t understand your intent,” Spock says politely. 

Jim knows. He knows exactly what she means. All the times he sat in this very room, gossiping, complaining to chapel about whatever comes to mind. Bones came to mind, most of the time. The annoying thing he heard about Spock is a close second. 

“Don’t you mind.” She hands them both their outfits, not without a warning glance Jim’s way. 

Jim discovers arguments with Spock are inevitable. He can’t help that. The man is too irritating to remain blissfully arrogant. 

“You-!” he says angrily 

“I?” Answers Spock calmly, clearly unbothered. 

“You fucking... piece of stone!” Jim spits, before groaning internally. Worst insult ever. 

“What kind?” Spock muses, entertained, “a granite? Marble? Onyx?”

“No- you’re... a dumb coal, or something!” Jim says, crossing his arms definitely. He’s very obviously losing. 

“... the stone that is said can become a diamond under pressure?” Spock raises an eyebrow.

“No! Ugh. Fuck you.”

“I am struggling to understand your intention,” Spock informs him. Bones, who was just watching them silently over his coffee, snorts. 

“He’s teasing ya, Spock. It’s a form of affection,” he points out. 

Jim’s head snaps over to Bones, almost insulted. “I don't like Spock.” He declares. 

Bones rolls his eyes. 

Spock looks at Jim, and Jim thinks he can see confusion in his eyes. “You’re... flirting with me?” He asks. 

Bones snorts. “Yup,”

Jim looks between them. “No yup! You think I’d ever -“ he gasps at Bones, hand over his heart. “My heart belongs to one!” He mimics a heart in his hand, and offers it to Bones.

Bones rolls his eyes and looks at Spock knowingly. 

“I... understand,” says Spock, but again there’s a spark in his eyes saying the opposite. 

“Alright.” Says Bones, taking a deep breath and throwing his cup to the trash. “We should start. Spock?” Bones says kindly, and Spock nods shortly, before walking in front of the camera. 

“Well, Jim?” Bones raises an eyebrow. 

Jim joins Spock in the spotlight. 

Maybe it’ll be okay. Maybe Spock isn’t that bad. Maybe-

“Please try not to shame Vulcan.” Spock mutters out of the corner of his mouth, face smooth. 

“Oh, that's it -“ He turns around angrily. 

“Jim!” Bones snaps. 

Jim turns back to the camera, not without seeing Spock’s mouth quirking up smugly. “ He -!”

“I’m a photographer, not a babysitter, Jim!” Bones shoots right back. 

“Well I don’t want my pictures taken with him!” 

“It’s not a pleasure on my part, either,” murmurs Spock at his side. 

Jim turns to him angrily. “You got a problem-”

“Can’t you be professional for two seconds?” asks Bones, effectively shutting Jim up.

“Can’t we do solo shots?” Jim pouts. 

Bones sighs. “Vulcan were very specific. Now, are you going to calm down, or do I need to send you on time out?” 

Spock says something quietly. 

“Yes, Spock? You wanna add something?” asks Jim angrily. 

“I just said I cannot recall ever working with a professional person having such little respect for their work.” Spock repeats, loud and clear. 

“I’m going to ruin your hot face.”

The next thing he knows, Bones is standing between them, displeasure written all over his body. 

“Out-” He says, “-of my studio. Out!” He grabs them both and drags them to the back door. 

Jim and Spock share an equally surprised look. 

“Come back when you gain civility.” He says, slamming the door in their faces

They look at each other again. The sound of people shuffling comes to their ears. 

“Paparazzi,” Jim says in a combination of horror and exhaustion, still staring at Spock. 

Spock takes a second to school his expression, then nods. “Follow me.”

Chapter Text

Spock greets the barista as he enters the cafe for the third time that month. Behind him, Kirk is looking through the window for any photographers that might have followed them here.

“Kirk? Your order?” Spock moves aside so Kirk can order as well, looking around for a nice table. 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Kirk crosses his arms, but Spock simply sits down at a near table. 

“My treat,” he promises. 

He can see the wheels in Kirk’s head turning as he desperately searches for a trap or a catch, before slowly turning to the barista and ordering as well (moca slush with pearls full sugar half ice with dalgona toppings) and sitting down cautiously. 

There’s a long moment of silence, which Spock is certain the man in front of him is utilizing to figure out a - at least in Kirk’s perspective - crashing blow to Spock’s ego. It seems Kirk has yet to realize how little he means to Spock, and therefore, how utterly useless his words are. 

As  the silence stretches on, Spock makes peace with it. It is certainly more pleasant than Kirk’s unending nagging. He watches as Kirk’s expression twists in something akin to loathing, although Spock is sure it is actually frustration in disguise. If Kirk would have found his words, he surely would have used them accordingly.

Finally, Spock’s name is called by the barista. He rises to his feet and leaves Kirk with his mouth half open. Either he finally found something to say, or he was a mouth breather. 

Spock was inclined to believe the second option more. 

When he is back at the table, though, the only thing he can see in Kirk’s features is defeat. His phone is faced down on the table, and Spock assumes he was trying to call Leonard and beg for help, since that man has clearly never faced a hard day his entire life.

He sets Kirk's drink on the table halfway between them and settles down with his tea. Kirk refuses to reach for it, and Spock will not give into his childish whims. 

The coffee, like the silence, remains in place. Untouched. Spock sips his tea with disinterest and gazes out of the window, hoping they have successfully avoided the paparazzi’s attention for now. Maybe Leonard finally went through on his threats and called a higher authority. 

Kirk sighs across the table, and Spock offers him a blank stare and no reason to break the silence. It isn’t comfortable by any means, but he just knows he would miss it the moment the golden boy chooses to speak.

And soon enough- too soon, in Spock’s opinion- he did. 

“It was you, wasn't it,” Kirk accuses him out of nowhere. 

Spock is certain that Kirk doesn't know much about accountability, and is used to blaming others for his problems. Clearly, the first accusation did not get the effect Kirk clearly wanted to get out of him, since he adds:

“You made sure to snatch my time with Bones Tuesday, didn't you” 

“Bones?” Spock raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. He remembers Kirk wasting his breath on the fitting a few days back, speaking of Bones this and that.

Kirk seems to have realized his mistake about a second after, and closes his mouth decisively. Spock is barely able to count five Mississippi's before Kirk opens his mouth again.

“McCoy! I am obviously talking about McCoy” he huffs, like Spock had just made him admit his biggest and darkest secret. Maybe it was. It might as well have been. He doubted people like Kirk could keep their mouths shut long enough to keep a secret. 

He hums back noncommittally, not letting his own feelings show, and definitely not encouraging Kirk to go on. Kirk clearly had not caught his tone correctly. 

“I've been friends with him forever now! He’s the one who got me my first modeling job.” He stays quiet for a moment, clearly omitting some details he does not want Spock to know about, before caving in. “I like him, okay? Then you had to show up, with your stupid fucking face and horribly chiseled body and the bringing Bones coffee-“ He stares at Spock in clear disapproval, as if he was searching for any regret and found none. “You’re clearly trying to sabotage me!”

And, well, he wasn't wrong. Spock may have not known about Kirk's feelings towards Leonard, but he has been trying to eliminate all competition from day one. Kirk had a clear head start on him, and Spock simply did not care enough for Kirk to stay away from stepping on some toes.

“ Well ? Aren’t you going to explain yourself?” Kirk asks stupidly. 

“I happen to have my own reasoning,” Spock answers mildly, “and I promise you have nothing to do with them.”

Kirk stares at him for a very long moment, which Spock chooses to use to take one last sip of his tea before it becomes too lukewarm to be enjoyable. 

“So you bring him coffee, come by early, and overbook me just to see him?” Kirk sums up slowly.

Spock can practically see the rusty gears in Kirk's head kicking into action. He wishes he could stop him. He watches as bright blue eyes catch his own, and an eyebrow rising up in what seems like a cheap impression of McCoy's imploring face.

“...You like Bones,” Kirk concludes, then, since Spock doesn’t bother denying his claim, he repeats, much louder, “You like Bones!” 

“We are in a public space, Kirk,” Spock tries, but Kirk sees right through him. 

“You have been sabotaging me! You are jealous!”

“Don't be absurd,” Spock retorts calmly, even though he cannot find a way to counter that attack. Kirk seemed to have found the crack in his armor. His very own achilles heel.

He really hoped Kirk was just a mouth breather. 

“Admit it!” Kirk pushes, and that’s a mistake. No one puts a vulcan in a corner. 

“And if I did?” He raises a perfectly crafted eyebrow at Kirk challengingly. “What could you possibly do about that?”

It was once again Kirk's turn to have no retort. Good. There was nothing he could do to one up Spock. Nothing that would make Spock stop courting Leonard. 

“You heartless homewrecking bitch,” Kirk accuses, which earns him a very unimpressed look from Spock. 

“You’re being dramatic.” 

“You’re stealing the love of my life under my nose! I'm not going to sit by and watch it!” 

Spock can understand why Leonard is so prone to eye rolling. Being in James Kirk's proximity was a full time job in itself. 

“This is not your decision. Only Leonard can reject or accept my advances,” he points out calmly. Kirk starts sputtering in an incredibly unflattering manner, but Spock pays him no mind. 

In some twisted turn of fate, it seems that he and Kirk were in the same boat. He looks down at the dark leaves swirling at the bottom of his cup and takes a deep breath. 

“I propose a quid pro quo,” he offers. 

Kirk pauses, his mouth still open, and makes a very disgraceful face that Spock chooses to interpret as an encouragement to keep talking. 

“For the sake of professionalism, we will cooperate.”

“You think I care about your stupid agency enough for that?”

“For Leonard, then.” 

Now that makes Kirk pause, which means Spock found an in. He must think fast. 

“We get along for Leonard. Stay out of my way, and I will stay out of yours. Leonard can choose whoever he prefers” 

Kirk, surprisingly, doesn’t answer right away. They sit quietly for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes in a battle of wits Spock did not expect from the likes of kirk.

“You sound convinced he will choose you,” Kirk points out after a while. 

Spock hums. “I'm inclined to think my odds are rather good,” he informs him casually.  

Kirk smiles, then, one of his big, bright, toothy, heart melting smiles- the ones he saves for paparazzis and headline covers on magazines, and Spock realizes he might have made an error in his calculations.

“We’ll see about that,” he tells him cheerfully. He finally reaches for his drink.

Chapter Text

“I have to tell you something,” admits Bones. He worries his lip between his teeth in a way that Jim finds himself transfixed to.

“I know exactly what you think” replies Jim, reaching to free Bones’s lower lip with his thumb, “I feel that way too.”

And they’re kissing. It's the passionate, blazing kind of a kiss. The kind that makes Jim feel like his entire body is on fire. Bones striked that match, put the fuel of his lips against Jim's kindled mouth, and made a flame. He will burn forever for that man. To light his way, to keep him warm. 

They are kissing and kissing and kissing. Against furniture, against walls. The whole room catches fire from their love, but Spock is cool. Spock has lips made of a water stream, ebbing and flowing on a hot summer day. A soothing presence against Bones. He kisses him gently, imploringly. Treating him like a shell under the waves of the ocean. He beckons Bones onto the bed- Jim's bed- climbing into it gracefully. Just the two of them. It fits just right.  

Bones looks up at him, his eyes full of love and warmth and fondness, and pings. 

Spock- Jim blinks in confusion as Bones pings again, and again

Jim pushes away from him, but Bones continues pinging demandingly.

...Jim wakes up.

Jim will give the paparazzi that: they work fast. This may or may not be for their complete disregard for real life and facts, but who’s Jim to say? It's not like half of their bullshit is about him . 

Oh, wait.

His contract with Vulcan- and, by extension, his agreement with Spock- have only been in effect for a few days, and believe it or not, he and Spock have managed not to rip each other’s throats. Not in front of Bones, at least.

And yet, Jim finds himself waking up to texts from Sulu, Chapel, Scotty and, worst of all, Bones, featuring links to various websites.

“Are fan favorite models Jim Kirk and Mr. Spock the industry's new sweethearts?”

“No.” 

“The two men were seen sneaking out of the studio in the middle of shooting to sit in a nearby cafe-”

“We weren't!”

“Could this be the reason for Kirk’s sudden transfer to Vulcan’s custody?” 

“No! I'm just broke! Ugh.” He shuts his phone and throws it to the foot of his bed. The phone, unimpressed, keeps pinging with new alerts. What a fucking nightmare!

He drags himself out of bed and to the bathroom, leaving his phone on the bed to tire itself out as he brushes his teeth and washes his face. 

The phone still pings when he returns to his room, although at a much slower velocity. Jim risks checking the messages on his social platforms.

“@JimTKirk r u ok?”

“is this fr??? @JimTKirk @Mr_Spock” 

“i cant fucking believe it!”

“ok, but they’re such a hot couple tho. r we gonna talk about this??”

He scrolls through them mindlessly, but one DM in his instagram catches his attention.

"Kirk. We need to talk.”

“Is this guy for real?” he murmurs as he heads for the kitchen

“damn u rly stalking me huh” 

He watches as three dots appear on the screen while he makes himself a cup of coffee. They seem to disappear and reappear a few times before he can finally read it.

“It seems that we have found ourselves in unknown territory.”

Jim does not like the use of we being applied to him and Spock one fucking bit. He grabs his mug and heads for the couch, trying to think of a good retort.

“theres no fuckin we Spock” He hits send, then immediately continues, “whats to fucking talk abt here?” 

“I believe we can use this situation to our advantage. ”  

Again with the we . Jim was starting to think Spock truly does have a crush on him.

“wtf does that mean?” Why would Spock think they have a shared interest to exploit in the first place? They had literally nothing in common.

“Do you think we could make Leonard jealous? ” 

Oh. except that.

...And that’s how Jim finds himself in Spock’s living room, staring out of a balcony overlooking the entire city. Spock is standing in a kitchen that puts Jim’s to shame, and refuses to answer any of Jim's questions, like the asshole he is. 

After 10 agonizing minutes, in which Jim has managed to find something to hate about every visible inch of Spock apartment, Spock sets down two mugs and two coasters on the coffee table and sits down on the other side of the couch. 

They sit silently for a moment, staring each other down, before Spock sighs. “I didn’t put poison in your mug. It’s simply hot chocolate.”

“Sounds like something someone who poisoned my mug would say,” Jim points out. Nonetheless, he grabs the mug and takes a sip, and holy fuck , that was the most delicious hot cocoa Jim has ever fucking tasted. 

He takes another sip, then one more, before looking back at Spock. Fuck. Play it cool, Jim.

“It's alright,” he lies. 

Spock raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t call bullshit. Coward. Jim isn't grateful about it.

“Well?” he urges, sipping his upsettingly delicious cocoa.

“When we were in the studio a few days prior, Leonard seemed to suggest we were… flirting.” Straight to business. How very Vulcan.

“Well, we really fucking weren't,” Jim interjects, licking his top lip for any cream residue.

Spock's eyes definitely linger there a moment too long. Alright, maybe only Jim wasn’t.

“I watched Leonard's response to the accusation. He seemed both amused and on edge.” Spock picks his own mug up and sips it. “I believe he may harbor emotions for one of us.”

“No shit, Sherlock. This is why we gathered here today. You clearly made it sound like you can make him go on one knee.” He puts his legs on the table, and watches as Spock’s mouth curls downwards in displeasure. Good.

“I suggest we play into the rumors,” he answers calmly, despite how irritated he must be by Jim's actions. 

“...You want to tell everyone we're dating ?” 

“If we give Leonard a reason to think it is his last chance, we may be able to make him admit his true emotions.” 

Jim sinks into the cushions - they're disgustingly comfortable - and looks down into his half full mug, thinking. When Spock puts it like that, it seems incredibly simple. Jim should let Bones know he won't be available forever. But on the other hand…

“Bones will never come between us if we start dating,” Jim shakes his head. To his surprise, Spock doesn't immediately shut it down. After a few moments of thinking, he says:

“We'll give it a few weeks. If he seems to become resentful, we could stage a breakup.”

Jim hates how much fucking sense this plan makes. He drinks more of his cocoa before setting it on the table and turning to look at Spock. “Well, we’re gonna need to set some fucking ground rules here, because I sure don't want to fucking kiss you every time a camera pops up.”

Spock hums, sipping his tea. “Yeah, that doesn't fit your image at all,” he deadpans under his breath.

“ You’re the one who suggested dating me , asshole!” Jim retorts without missing a beat. “Bet you're just jealous because you never kissed anyone before” 

Spock does not seem impressed by that accusation, which is fair, considering they both know that is not one bit true. 

“We have to kiss at least once,” Spock says, and at least he has the decency to look somewhat fazed by that, or Jim would really get suspicious of his true motives here. 

“Fine. I'll touch your grimy mouth once. on my terms, " Jim agrees in his incredible graciousness. 

“One kiss, your choice,” Spock concludes, rolling his eyes- a mannerism he had the audacity to pick from Bones, no doubt.

“Well, we need to give them something the rest of the time,” Jim points out. 

“We can hold hands.”

“Woah there! don't you know hand holding is the first step to prostitution?” He could not be teasing Spock any harder if he tried, and yet, nothing.

“Prostitution is a respectable job, Kirk. Do not be disrespectful of sex workers,” he answers with a completely even voice. 

Jim groans in frustration. “Fine, I’ll hold your stupid hand. What's your opinion on pet names?”

“Most of them are distasteful.” Spock sips his tea, clearly knowing exactly why Jim asked.

“Perfect. You’re my honey-boo now.” Spock, wisely, doesn’t argue with his decree. “So now we need to get the word out,” Jim concludes. 

“I suppose so,” Spock agrees nonchalantly. “We do have an upcoming interview, or we could wait for more paparazzi.”

“You're so fucking old fashioned. Who's going to buy that crap?” He reaches for his phone and opens his front camera. “Alright, let’s make it official.” Spock raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t approve or disapprove of that statement. 

He tries taking a selfie, before frowning and turning to look at Spock. “Come on, man, at least try to look like we just had wild sex on your couch” 

“We are both fully clothed, Kirk.”

“Doesn’t matter. Come here.” Jim raises his hand, but pauses halfway between them. After a moment, Spock leans a little closer. Jim combs his fingers through Spock's - incredibly soft, he should mention - hair, trying to tussle it like they were actually enjoying themselves. “See? Much better.”

Spock raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t pull away. “And you?” he asks

Jim hums, considering, before popping a few buttons open and turning to fake lean against Spock's chest. They aren't really touching, but cameras are stupid and easily tricked.

“Say cheese!” Jim grins at the camera. 

Spock doesn't even twitch. “I will do no such thing.”

“Too late, I already took some.” he looks through the gallery. He wishes he could’ve chosen a picture Spock looks stupid in, but he looks perfectly photogenic in every single one, that bastard.

Spock hums and rises to his feet without another word, setting his tea mug on its coaster and heading for one of the rooms. 

Jim opens his Instagram. “heard everyone’s talking about me and my honey-boo <3” 

He hopes Spock hates that caption.

He uploads the picture.

Chapter Text

When Jim arrives at work the next day, he is met by a set of raised eyebrows and curious looks. It wasn't unexpected, from the way his and Spock's picture blew up the moment it went up. The internet was really desperate for hot people doing it, and Sulu got a front row ticket- both as a friend and as a horrible gossip.

His friends both from the agency and out of it have been leaving him many messages over the weekend. Well, everyone but one. the only one he actually wanted to hear from.

“Don't you have work to do?” Jim asks tiredly. 

“No.” Sulu bats his eyelashes innocently at him, but Jim knows Sulu is out for blood. “So… you and Spock, huh?” 

Jim crosses his arms and looks from Sulu to Chekov, who immediately takes a step back behind Sulu and smiles at Jim apologetically. 

“Apparently he's… not the worst” Jim lies. he thought it would be hard convincing them their ruse was true, considering the amount of time he spent not liking Spock, and yet-

“ No shit! It's about damn time you stopped pulling on his pigtails and started pulling off his clothes!” Sulu leans over the counter with a knowing smirk. “Well? Was the wait worth it? Does he have a defined ass like those Greek statues?”

“Oh, would you look at the time!” Jim says as he's slipping past the front desk toward the long corridor leading to the offices. “What's that? Mr. Pike? You need me to walk into your office? Sorry, Sulu, gotta go.”

“How's his happy trail?” Sulu calls from behind.

Away from the rock, and into a hard place.

“I was told you had been a bad influence on one very well behaved Mr. Spock, but that couldn't be, surely,” Pike greets him as soon as he steps into his office. “Leaving in the middle of a shoot? In clothes you’ll have to work until you die and then some if you ruined?” 

Jim opens his mouth to reply, but Pike isn't done.

 “A Vulcan representative called. You remember Vulcan, right? The company you work for to pay your bills?” Jim tries again, but to no avail. “And I told them, ‘Why, Mr. Kirk would never act so unprofessionally.’ And we both know what that means, don’t we Jim?”

It means this is his last chance there, mostly. “Yes, sir. I can explain-”

Pike waves his hand dismissively. “I don't really care. Vulcan is rescheduling with McCoy, and all you need to do is show up and smile, understood?” Jim nods quickly, and Pike gestures at the empty chair on the opposite side of his desk. “Now sit down, we have a lot to figure out.”

When a man like Pike says “We have a lot to figure out”, he means: “Sit here in this uncomfortable chair of shame as I single-handedly save your career, all while stabbing daggers at you with my eyes.” And, frankly, Jim was getting a little tired of having a lot to figure out.

Which means that when Sulu knocks on the door a hundred years later with the announcement that Pike's next appointment is in two minutes, Jim is already halfway across the office.

“Jim?” Pike calls from behind.

“sir?” He turns to look at him with big innocent eyes.

Pike sighs. “Stay out of trouble,” he asks tiredly. 

“Will do!” Jim promises, bypassing Sulu on his way out.

They both know he won't.

Spock wakes up at 8:00. 

At 8:27, he is out of his house, and by 8:42 he is in the coffee shop he met McCoy in after T'Pring told him about her departure. The one he led James Kirk to in order to avoid the paparazzi.

Speak of the devil, in 8:45 there is a buzz in his phone and a message under a number saved as “Jim kirk ;)” (the winky face was, of course, not his own doing) reading: “ here ” and another, “ come down”  

“I have not been home for 18 minutes by now” he informs the man with a private roll of his eyes. He barely managed to put the phone back in his pocket when it buzzed again. 

“Just round it up and say 20”

“Who tf cares bout the specific amount of minutes that passed?”

“Wait tho”

“Im here with my bike and everything and you’re not even here?”

Spock huffs at the string of messages. Jim Kirk truly appeared to have no filter whatsoever. Couldn’t he have fitted everything into one message? Nonetheless, he replies. 

“It would be incredibly irresponsible of me to be home at 8:47 when the shooting starts at 9:00” he informs Kirk, shutting his phone and ignoring its buzz in his pocket, letting Kirk tire himself into silence. 

Obviously, he wasn’t smiling while picking up three cups of drinks to go. He wasn’t pleased knowing Kirk made a fool of himself by trying to pick him up without an announcement. He thought it was foolish. Who shows up on another man’s doorstep without knowing his schedule? Or even bothering to ask beforehand? Clearly, his own actions led him onto this turn of events. 

Spock enters Leonard’s studio at precisely 9:00, sipping his own herbal tea and holding two additional cups (one Ristretto with one sweetener, the other chocolate slush with pearls full sugar half ice with dalgona toppings) in his other hand. 

He scans through the commotion slowly, trying to find Leonard in the crew scattered through the studio. From their time knowing each other, he noticed Leonard would often position himself right in the center and bark orders at everyone around (or wave them away and do the task himself, as if he wasn't paying people to get the heavy lifting off his back), but since Spock could not hear his voice, the logical conclusion would be that he was either by the kitchenette, or has yet to arrive.

and just as suspected, Leonard could be found right by the coffee machine, staring at it so intensely one could think it was holding his mortal soul, and not just heating up water. 

“Leonard,” Spock calls gently, but Leonard still flinches. Whether from being surprised or uncomfortable, Spock cannot tell. 

“Spock,” he says tiredly, turning to look at him. Spock watches as his eyes dart down to the two untouched cups in his hand. “You… got me coffee again.” He notes. 

Spock nods, settling his own cup aside to hand Leonard the right one. Just because he’s pretending to date a savage doesn’t mean he’ll forget his manners. 

“I- uh.” Leonard accepts the cup, their hands barely brushing. Spock notices this, since he has been awaiting that touch since he woke up. “Thank you, Spock,” Leonard says softly, looking up to meet Spock's eyes. “I assume the other is for Jim? I heard-“ 

Perhaps James Kirk truly is a devil, since he chooses that exact moment to make the loudest possible entrance. 

“Scotty! You gotta see what my baby can do!” 

Leonard takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Excuse me for a moment,” he murmurs to Spock, already heading towards the ruckus.

Spock stays put, calculating his ability to help Leonard on this specific occasion, in comparison to his desire to mind his own business and have just a few more blissfully Kirk-less moments.

He heads for the dressing room.

“Spock! I saw the picture on Jim's Instagram-” Chapel must've forgotten that Spock was not one to gossip with. He raises his eyebrow at her, in hopes it will deter her.

As if anything could. 

“Uhura said she didn't have any idea it finally happened either, which I thought was absolutely wild,” she continues, not even looking for his response by now. He sets Kirk's drink on the makeup table and heads for the hangers to change. “You’d think she’d be the first to know, but she was as surprised as me. Well, we weren't that surprised, with the amount of time you two- Oh, Jim! We were just talking about you!”

And sure enough, as Spock turns around, he finds Jim at the door, looking him up and down. As soon as their eyes meet, Jim turns to smile brightly at Chapel. Interesting.

“Of course you were! I'm the only thing worth talking about!” he boasts, looking back at Spock with a delighted expression. “Aren’t I, honey-boo?” 

It takes all of Spock's self control to hold himself from rolling his eyes at him. “I got you a drink,” he offers instead, gesturing at the cup next to the mirror. 

“You truly are so thoughtful, Spock! Come here, I'll touch up your face and you’ll be ready for the camera." Chapel swoons, beckoning Spock into the chair. He watches through the mirror as Kirk sniffs at the cup (still thinking Spock poisoned it, no doubt) before taking a sip. 

Kirk catches his gaze through the mirror, then quickly looks away. Spock lets a smug smile slip past his tight guard, just this once.

Although Bones hadn’t interacted with the photo in any way, Jim knew he must've seen it. Everyone had. If it wasn't through Instagram, it was through one article or another. He and Spock are due for a damn interview in the fashion channel in a few days for fuck’s sake! 

Jim had expected Bones to mention his and Spock's picture- even just to mock Jim's horrible myspace angle and framework, but Bones is… uncharacteristicly quiet. 

which means that Bones knows. He knows, and he clearly doesn't like it.

He didn't bother to direct them as they settled themselves in front of the camera (no sniping remarks muttered between the two this time), and Jim finds himself wondering if they made a mistake. 

“Maybe we should call it off,” he murmurs to Spock as they change outfits. “Bones didn’t call me beautiful even once today.” He doesn't bother tucking his shirt into his pants like Spock does, knowing Chapel will undo his work and tuck it herself if he did.

“We can't quit after two days, Kirk. Do you have any prevision whatsoever?” snides Spock, fixing his socks and tying his shoes. “He's jealous, just like we planned. We need to push more. See which one of us he’s interested in.” 

Spock really was ruthless when he wanted something, huh. If Jim thought there was any chance Bones would pick Spock over himself, he would have mentioned that to him. Seems dangerous to date such a scheming bastard, even if he remembers your drink order perfectly. 

Jim huffs, pouting as Chapel enters the room with a belt over her shoulder and unceremoniously sticks her hands in Jim's pants. 

“What's that look for, Jim? Look how well this suit looks on you.” 

Jim glances over to catch Spock stealing a glance at Chapel's words. Of course he would be. 

“You know me, Chapel. when Bones is in a mood, I'm in a mood.” He shrugs very deliberately, clearly trying to get more out of her.

“Oh, McCoy truly is in a sour patch today, isn't he? I truly wish he’d open up about his feelings from time to time.” She turns Jim this way and that, nodding to herself. 

“I'll go talk to him,” offers Spock. Chapel looks him up and down and nods in approval. 

“I'll go too!” Jim jumps immediately, since there’s not a single chance he’s leaving Bones and Spock alone together if he can help it. Well, apparently he can't, in fact, help it.

“You most certainly aren’t! I still need to fix your hair! Sit down.” Chapel pushes him into the makeup chair as the door closes behind Spock. She keeps forcing his head back to the mirror every time he turns to look at it, as if he could see through it if he just focused enough. 

“Seriously though, Chapel. Do you think it’s my fault he’s like this?” Jim asks earnestly, meeting her eyes in the mirror. 

“For finally moving on and not being single?” 

Jim makes a face at her. 

“Oh, honey. No one can wait forever. You deserve to be happy, whether McCoy likes it or not.” She combs through his hair with one of her magical sprays, but spares a moment to pat his shoulder softly. “Who knows. Maybe he’ll come to terms with some emotions of his own.” 

Maybe. 

Fuck, it sucks when Spock is right. 

When Chapel gives him her okay, he walks out to find Spock and Bones huddling around the camera, talking quietly. Bones seems drastically less grumpy as he looks up to see Jim stepping outside of the dressing room. Spock follows his lead, looking at Jim with much less excitement. 

“Fucking finally! Come on, Jim, get in there!” Bones calls, sending Spock back into frame. 

Jim pauses next to Bones on his way, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Are we good?” he asks hurriedly, scared Bones will shoo him away.

Bones rolls his eyes at him and shakes his head fondly. “You won’t hold a second without me,” he retorts in amusement, before kicking at his ankles. “Now go stand next to your man.”

Jim puts his hands up, smiling widely. “You’re my man, Bones! I thought you knew that by now!” but he is, wisely, heading towards Spock.

“Yeah, I heard all about it,” Bones rolls his eyes, playing with the camera setting. and people think Jim is the stupid one between the two. His flirting isn't even subtle anymore!

Spock, who is either a great actor or isn’t pleased by Jim's flirting (the first one, probably, sadly), sets a possessive arm around Jim's shoulders as soon as he is close enough. Jim is about to push him away, but Bones looks up and says, “Hold that! Spock, lean right. Jim?” 

Jim, always eager to please one man and one man only, looks at Bones and smiles. 

“Now we're fucking talking.”

And from there, it was almost familiar. The camera was familiar. The tension with Spock- although everyone else thought had changed- was the same as well. Jim had never really had anyone else in his shot before, but Spock clearly did, and knew just how to position himself around Jim when needed (and Jim, on his part, barely flinched if a long, cool arm touched his back, or used his shoulder as armrest). 

But even though Bones’s directing and compliments were familiar as he regained his footing, Jim had found himself twisting them in a tango completely unknown to him, fighting tooth and nail- or, perhaps it would be better to say smile and pose- to lead. 

Since Spock was so well adjusted, he didn't need as many instructions as Jim did to get it right. Jim hated it.

As they paused to change, Jim could see something passionate in Bones’s eyes. He wished he had a chance to ask him about it, but Spock was already dragging him along to the changing room. 

“Come on, man! You already got your alone time with him!" Jim whispers as soon as they enter the room.

“Perhaps if you wanted more free time, you would try being more efficient in your changes.” Spock offers, raising an eyebrow at him in what Jim saw as a clear challenge.

“Oh, look at me! I’m Mr. Perfect! My transitions take 5 minutes and my hair stays in place no matter what! Fuck you!” Jim sticks his tongue at him. He will definitely dress up faster than him this time. He just decided.

Spock does not dignify that with an answer. Coward. He also somehow finishes getting ready before Jim again. Cheater . 

They come back out to find Bones sitting down with the camera, deep in thought.

“Follow my lead,” says Spock, heading for him.

Jim absolutely does not take orders from Spock , thank you very much. He only follows him since he was heading Bones’s way from the start.

Spock sits down to Bones’s left, and so Jim takes his right. He leans closer to look over at the camera, but is stopped when Bones looks up and raises an eyebrow between the two.

“Jim, already done? Spock sure is a good influence on you,” he teases. 

Jim can see Spock's mouth twitching from his peripheral vision, but ignores him gracefully. He has to hold himself from making a face back, since they are supposed to be in love.

“So mean, Bones.” He pouts, leaning his head on Bones’s shoulder. “Got any good shots?”

Before Bones has the chance to answer, Spock barges in with his annoyingly velvety voice. “Of course he did, James. Leonard is the best photographer in the business, after all.”

And Jim…. He knows he should be coming up with a killer comeback, telling stupid Spock he's being a suck up, and no one likes a suck up, but… well, it's just that fawny, asshole, stupid Spock just called Jim James for the first time, and out of nowhere, too, and Jim can't seem to produce sounds quite like he’d wish to. 

So he opens his mouth, blinks a few times, closes his mouth, tilts his head to the side, and probably looks ridiculous, since he gets a laugh out of Bones. 

“My god, Spock! I think you broke him!” he wheezes, putting a hand on Spock's shoulder.

Spock, on his part, also takes a moment to answer, although certainly not as long as Jim is.

“I was merely stating a fact. Was he not aware of that?” Spock sounds a little too soft to be mocking him, but it was patronizing enough to get Jim back on track.

“I was just surprised you’re that much of a boot licker!” Jim shoots, trying to correct the damage done, but it only makes Bones laugh harder.

“Says the one who claims flattery will get you everywhere!” Bones teases.

Jim pouts, which makes Bones laugh so hard his head falls to Jim's shoulder. Jim suddenly can't complain about anything anymore. He looks up at Spock with a delighted smug smile, to which Spock answers with a very neutral expression and the rise of an eyebrow. victory!

The rest of the photoshoot flies by in about the same manner, with Jim and Spock fighting for Bones's affection, both in front of the camera and away from it. It's almost- ( almost, and no one ever quote this back at Jim, for he will boldly deny it,) fun. Fun! With Spock around! Gross. Maybe his brain is broken.

As they emerge from the dressing room one last time, with their own clothes, Jim pauses right before he accidentally smiles at Spock (What the hell is going on with him?). He raises an arm in goodbye instead- (playing the part. They’re just playing the part) and Spock nods back, glancing behind him for a moment. Probably at Bones.

Only then his eyes return to Jim's, and he says “James,” again, and every single hair on Jim’s body suddenly stands up, like they all just decided to take their commands from Spock instead of the brain they were attached to. He notices as the crowd behind him falls into an unprompted hush, but he doesn't dare to look back. Spock has only called him that around Bones, so he must be listening. Play the part.

“Yeah?” he asks, way less confident and playful than he wished he was.

“Are we still going for that date next week?” Spock asks casually- and honestly, fuck him for being a good actor in addition to everything else he’s already got going on. 

They had never discussed having a date before, but that doesn't stop Jim from nodding- Maybe a tad too enthusiastically. “Yeah! For sure. I Won't miss it.” He really hopes it doesn't mean they actually have to meet now.

Spock nods and turns around without another word, heading for the door. 

Jim watches the door shut and the sound of work resuming around him before turning to find Bones. Bones, of course, is yelling orders at everyone to dismantle the lights and sets around him. Jim bypasses a few of the crewmen to reach him, and taps his shoulder with a smile.

“Jim? Didn't you leave with Spock?” 

“What? And leave you here all by yourself?” Jim asks with fake horror, gesturing to the bustling room around him.

Bones raises a skeptic eyebrow at him.

“Can’t a guy offer his best friend a ride home on the coolest ride in the known universe?” Jim pouts at him, fluttering his eyelashes until Bones huffs a laugh.

“Me? Your new boyfriend just walked out the door by foot," Bones points out, and Jim knows him long enough to hear the strain of casualty in his voice.

Jim sticks his tongue out at the sound of Spock’s name. “I offered him a ride this morning and he was a total dick about it. I'm revoking his bike privileges. Only you get to ride it with me.” 

Bones shakes his head fondly. “I'd be honored, if it wasn't an absolute death machine that I never want to get near again.” 

“Bonessssss,” Jim whines, hanging over him dramatically. 

“Jim,” Bones deadpans back.

“Let me take you home! I'll be a total gentleman, I swear!”

“Why do I feel like I heard that one before?”

“Come on, Bones, don’t you trust me?” 

“Not even with safety scissors.” 

Jim stumbles away from him, pretending to be shot. “Ouch.” He falls to his knees, dying dramatically- and incredibly loudly.

“Stop that. Jim. Get up. The floor is dirty, Jim. Get up . I'll be ready in ten.”

Jim jumps back to his feet, grinning. “I'm not going anywhere without you,” he promises.

Chapter Text

That night, as Spock is cooking his dinner, he discovers that lying by omission was a crime worthy of breaking and entering. Well, in Nyota's standards, at least.

“I cannot believe you!” she calls as soon as she opens the door to his apartment.

“Kitchen,” he informs her, listening to the angry snap of heels on wood as she walks closer.

“I cannot believe you!” she repeats, setting a bottle of wine on the kitchen table. It tells Spock she’s not that mad at him, and will congratulate him once she’s finished kicking his ass. 

“You know, when I gave you that spare key, it was for you to water my plants while I am away, not-”

“You’re sleeping with James T. Fucking Kirk and you didn’t bother telling me about it?” she cuts him off, jumping on the counter next to his cutting board - to rattle him, no doubt.

“I don't know what T’Pring has gotten you used to, but in this apartment we do not jump on the counter like misbehaving cats,” he informs her, gesturing her off with his chin. “Get down, I'll finish my soup, and we’ll talk.”

“Hell no, I'm not waiting that long. I'm one of your two best friends, and you let me find out you’re dating this guy through an Instagram post? It wasn’t even on your account!”  

When she says it like that, Spock realizes that she actually has a good point. Nyota knows him much better than everyone else, and is smart enough to see through the holes of their plan. He should have planned this interaction beforehand, and informed both her and T’Pring to avoid their suspicion.

“I… apologize. I'll admit I didn't even know he posted the picture while he did,” he answers slowly, choosing his words. He's not lying, he’s just… arranging the information to his favor, a little bit. “I should've spoken to you about it sooner.” 

Nyota’s jaw loses some of its edge, which tells him the hardest part is behind them. “Did you not want people to know about you? Because if he did this without your permission, I’ll-”

“No need for anything of this sort, I assure you. It all just happened… rather quickly. Telling you and T’Pring simply got lost in the commotion.” He opens the lid of the soup pot, stirring it around and tasting it. “Will you stay for dinner?”

Nyota slips down from the counter and heads for the cabinets to arrange the table. She sets down two bowls and spoons, and sits down with her phone, waiting for Spock to finish cooking.

Spock adjusts the condiments to his liking, and waits for the vegetables to soften. He must think of a story for what is happening between him and Kirk. He cannot believe he didn’t get that covered when Kirk came over. It must have… slipped his mind. 

Spock fills both their bowls while Nyota fills both their glasses, and Spock is glad for the silence during the meal. She knows him well. 

Spock had first met Nyota when T’Pring had been assigned to her when she first joined Vulcan, and so the three became fast friends. She’s had years to become acquainted with all of Spock's quirks and odd fits, something no one but her and T’Pring had ever uncovered and stuck around for. Until Leonard. 

Because here was the thing. Spock was inscrutable. Unknowable. He made sure of it, since that was what drew people to him in the first place- the appeal of the mystery- but there was no promise they’d stay once the bewilderment faded. Once the clouds dispersed to let the light shine onto his darkest corners, there was no promise the wait would have been worth it. That they’d like what they saw. 

Many didn’t. Some - like James T. Kirk, for one - didn’t bother trying at all, thinking connection would fall into their hands willingly, like they deserved to know everything about Spock from the first day. 

But Leonard? When Leonard looked at him, Spock felt like an earthquake. forts and walls fall like they’re made of paper cards and domino bricks. The way Leonard looks at him tears its way through the cracks, shining light at the darkness inside him like it’s the most natural thing to do. He matched Spock's intellect and interests and wasn’t afraid to put Spock in his place, but still made Spock feel welcomed in his space. He was a marvel, and even more than that, he made Spock feel like a marvel, too. 

Spock had never met anyone like him before. 

Nyota waits until the bowls are washed and wiped before approaching the subject again. She sits in the living room, her legs tucked under her thighs as she refills their glasses. 

Spock wipes his hands and makes his way to the couch, accepting his glass with a nod. 

She leans closer, looking at him with interest. “Come on, then. Tell me all about it. This is the fastest relationship I've ever seen you enter-”

It’s the only relationship she’s seen him enter. Spock had spent half the time knowing her as a very fulfilled bachelor, and the other pining for the cameraman who took the most beautiful photos and said the most beautiful things. 

“-What’s so special about him?” She asks. 

What is indeed. 

“James is…” Spock rakes his brain for the knowledge he had curated of Kirk for the last weeks. This is what it was for, wasn’t it? For pretending. “He’s different from anything I’ve known before,” he admits, keeping his voice natural. 

Nyota grins knowingly and leans closer. “He really is a looker, isn’t he,” she says conspiringly, and Spock has no option but to nod back. “What’s he like?”

Now, isn’t that a question. “You’ve met him, Nyota,” he deflects, since that trail of thought might lead his mind to places he refuses to cross. 

“Come on, Spock. His dick must be fucking magical for you to jump him like that as soon as you can!” She insists.

Spock opens his mouth, then closes it again. This conversation is light years away from a topic he’s comfortable with, but he figures he owes her that much, considering his error in former calculations. 

“He’s… warm,” he tells her slowly. “He’s a romantic, which I did not expect.” He closes his eyes and sips his wine, thinking. “He likes my hair, I think. He can't stop touching it.” and suddenly, the memory of Kirk passing his fingers through his hair crosses his mind, and it’s so easy to imagine he just kept going , slid his hand down to the back of Spock's neck and pulled him closer- “His lips are soft,” he says quietly, confessing to her. “He thinks everything is a fight. He kisses me like he’s trying to win.” He looks at her, but can’t quite meet her eyes. “He's really eager to please.” 

Nyota shoves at his shoulder, grinning, and Spock stares at the bridge of her nose so she wouldn’t notice he’s avoiding eye contact. 

A thousand minus seven is nine hundred ninety three minus seven is nine hundred eighty six minus- Kirk’s lips are so very pink- nine hundred seventy nine-

“So are you two ready for the interview on Thursday? i'm sure you already know what they’re going to ask,” she notes lightly, and if she’s noticing the tension leaving Spock's shoulders, she doesn't comment on it.

“I am, yes. James might need to be debriefed on the appropriate responses, though, considering his past.” 

Nyota snorts, reaching for the wine bottle to fill up her glass. “Do you remember that one interview where his agent had to pull him off the stage mid-show?” She laughs, and Spock huffs softly.

“He admitted to having stolen an expensive watch live on camera, if i'm not mistaken,” he replies in amusement. He is absolutely not mistaken - he remembers watching that interview a year back or so.

“Oh, yeah! We watched that together, didn't we?” 

Spock hums in agreement. He had gotten so upset by Kirk’s admission that he had to get up and walk around T’Pring’s place for a few minutes, just to shake the harsh emotion off. He remembers wondering how stupid that man must be, making such a novice mistake. He remembers hating the way Kirk's smile didn’t waver as he walked off the stage, as if nothing happened. As if his words had no consequences. He remembers getting upset all over again, as the watch company got tranding and doubled its sales after that incident.

“Now you’re dating him. Imagine telling that to yourself a year ago.”

No need to go that far back, actually.

The first time Jim had been asked to be interviewed, it was the most exciting thing he’d ever heard in his life. Jim? Famous? He was just some guy from Iowa. What could possibly be of interest about him that anyone would want to know?

And then, he got on stage, and fucked it up. Badly. So, so very badly. And the next time, it happened again. Different reasons, same results.

And again, and again, and again. 

He’s just not a diplomat. There’s just so many things to remember. So many etiquettes and rules and interests people serve through him, and he never seems to get it right. 

So when Vulcan set Spock and himself up to an interview with none other than Carol Marcus- America’s most popular talk show host- it was imperative that Jim will not mess up. 

Which meant Jim was debriefed. Jim was fucking debriefed alright. He was debriefed by Pike on Tuesday, sitting in the Chair Of Shame as his agent reminded him of every single interview gone wrong before and going over the tools that Jim had to retain in mind to keep his ‘impulsive behavior’ under control. 

(That watch was just the beginning. Jim had walked up in front of a live audience drunk off his ass, once. There was that time he kissed the host and called him daddy, and Sulu still liked to remind him of the interview where he ripped his pants on purpose while explaining how he ripped his pants on set by accident. not his smartest moment.) 

He was debriefed on Wednesday too, by a vulcan representative about proper Vulcan etiquette and representation on visual and auditory media: all the forbidden words, no funny anecdotes, no puns, no flirting with the host, no no no. Luckily, the man was only half as annoying and half as upsettingly good looking as Spock, since Jim already had an itching urge to do the exact opposite of anything that left that man’s mouth as is. 

And then, as he arrives at the backstage of the filming studio, Spock (already dressed and ready, mind you) has the audacity to claim they have to prepare for the interview together.

“Oh, fuck no,” Jim crosses his arms, heading for the clothes hanged next to the mirror and labeled ‘Jim Kirk’, fully planing to ignore Spock until its time to pretend to like him again.

“You are being immature, Kirk,” Spock notes, and Jim can hear a hint of condescending playfulness in it. Either Jim is starting to read him, or Spock is slipping up.

“Damn right I am!” He frowns at him with his best Bones impression, taking off his shirt and buttoning the new one on. “Thats the last thing I need right now, another fucking debrief.”

“I had no intention to debrief you,” Spock says, like a liar. 

“Oh, so you weren't going to tell me-” he straightens up and makes his best stoic face- “try not to shame Vulcan, Kirk. It’s known you fuck up on the regular, and even though someone already drilled this into your brain, the stick up my ass and I need to show you our superiority'.” Okay, maybe the impression got away from him somewhere in the middle, but he really doesn't want another fucking lecture.

Spock raises a perfect eyebrow, as if asking, ‘was that supposed to be me?’ but instead, he says, “No, that was not the subject I wanted to broach at all.”

Well, excuse him for not believing that. 

“Fine. What do you want to talk about? And I swear, if you try directing me even once I'm walking right out of here.” Not a very powerful threat when one is in his space patterned underwear, but Jim very much intends to follow through with it. As soon as he puts on some pants.

Spock looks vaguely amused, which Jim does not appreciate even one bit. 

“I wanted to discuss our… ‘relationship’,” he informs him. How he made it sound like he’s making air quotes with his hands behind his back is beyond Jim's comprehension. 

“We’re breaking up already? Aren’t you the one who said we should push it more?”

“Quite the contrary. I believe we should coordinate our stories, in case the questions dig deeper into it.” 

Oh. Yeah. Maybe. Ugh. Stupid logic. Jim hates when things make sense. 

“easy! I moved to Vulcan, you fell madly in love with me, I was gracious enough to agree to date you, and here we are.”

Spock shakes his head, but stays quiet. 

“What? That’s basically what happened, isn’t it?” Jim asks smugly. 

“…Perhaps, it might be best if I’ll handle the talking. So there won’t be too many contradictions.”

“So You’re telling me to be pretty and shut up?” 

“Is that something you’re capable of?”

Wow, what a jerk!

There’s a tender knock at the door, and Jim sends Spock one last nasty look before heading over to open it. Spock stays quiet as the production assistant walks inside and greets Jim enthusiastically, explaining they had just gone live and someone will come by in a moment to put on their makeup and attach mics to them. 

“You can talk their ears off for all I care. I hate these things anyway.” Jim murmurs after the assistant leaves, turning to look at Spock. 

Spock nods, once, in case Jim thinks he actually cares for the admission, and they leave it at that. 

Jim pulls out his phone, ready to text Bones about how annoying he finds Spock, when he remembers he should not be doing that as a supposed loving partner. he already pulled his phone out, though, and he can feel Spock’s eyes on him, so instead of setting it back, he opens the camera and tries catching unflattering pictures of Spock to upload to his instagram- you know, like any good boyfriend would.

sadly, Spock hasn't been informed that it’s illegal to always look like a roman statue all the fucking time, so now Jim is just stuck with 20 pictures of Spock on his phone for no fucking reason.

True to the assistant's promise, there’s another knock a few moments later, and a few design executives step inside to get them ready to go onstage. 

While they finish working on him and move onto Spock, Jim sends Bones a selfie, informing him they’re about to go on. 

“Behave yourself” warns Bones, like that hadn’t been drilled into Jim's brain enough the past week. 

“;P” sends Jim back, and turns his phone off. He forgot to do that once, and pike had specifically requested they will not have a repeat. 

The assistants test both their mics, and lead them along the corridor to the growing sounds of laughter and claps. 

Spock offers Jim his hand, and Jim bitterly accepts. 

Show time, and et cetera. 

The producer ushers them onto the stage as their names are called and they step into the bright lights to the sound of thunderous applause. Jim smiles at the camera and waves with his free hand as they sit down on the lovers seat next to the table. There's plenty of space on that couch, but Jim presses himself hip to knee next to Spock. 

Spock, in response, pulls their joint hands onto his lap. 

He turns to look at Carol, who has her own fake smile plastered on. She greets each one of them individually, eyes darting to their clasped hands, and Jim can tell the gears inside her head are turning. He’s glad he agreed to leave all the heavy lifting to Spock. 

“So!” She claps her hands, turning to the audience and smiling. “I must say you created quite the stir, Jim! We’ve all seen your newest campaign with Ducati all over America - if not the whole world,” she waits as the crowd bursts into cheers before continuing, “and you’ve been spotted riding one of their bikes by paparazzi the other day-” The screen behind them lights up with one of the pictures taken of Jim on his way to Bones’ studio. “-But then immediately after it has been rumored you’ve signed a long term contract with no less than Vulcan itself! What brought such an abrupt change?”

Jim smiles brightly, but doesn’t answer for a moment. Don’t say anything about needing money, or fucking up the bike. Think. 

“It’s been a huge pleasure working with Ducati the last month. Their bikes were so wonderful I just couldn’t bear never being around one again when the campaign ended!” He looks at Spock, who nods so subtly no one but Jim must’ve noticed. Okay. That’s one answer down. 

“…As for Vulcan, I’ve no knowledge about the reasons for their offer. I can only express my gratitude for such an amazing opportunity.” He watches as Carol nods along with a smile, most definitely not processing a word. He knows she’s trying to find a new spin- thinking about a new question that will make them admit something juicy she can grab onto. 

He hopes Bones is watching right now. He’d be so fucking proud of these answers. He also hopes no one fucking notices him for the rest of the interview. 

“Speaking of Vulcan, Spock, how would you…” Jim allows himself to zone out for that part, watching Spock as he takes over the conversation with ease. 

Spock looked as calm and collected as always. Whatever glance of emotions Jim thought he caught a glimpse of in the dressing room- it was gone. Maybe it never happened in the first place. It was known that Spock possessed one emotion as a whole, if at all. 

Either way, one thing was sure- he was better than Jim at talk show interviews. Of course he is, as his entire upbringing has been in Vulcan, and so he was properly trained (in a way Jim suspects he’d never survive, considering how hard the lecture on Wednesday had been), but there was more to it than that. There's a confident aura around him when he talks, pulling the focus away from anything else. It’s…captivating. Even when he talks about collections and mentions names Jim can only vaguely recall, Spock's voice swims through his head, sweet honey in cinnamon tea.

It takes a few minutes to circle back to him, and Jim straightens out at the sound of his name. 

“…Jim uploaded it about a week ago, confirming the two of you were in a relationship,” Carol gestures at the screen with her hand, and the infamous picture Jim uploaded to Instagram a week ago shows up on the screen. By this week, it was already standing on a million likes and comments, if not more.

None from Bones. Not that it mattered. Not that it was the only thing that mattered.

“I think it's no news that the two of you had a few public disagreements before, and yet, here you are!” She gestures at their hands and turns to the crowd. “I think I speak for everyone when I ask: how did this happen?” She can barely finish her sentence when the crowd roars with confirmation. This is what everyone really is here for tonight, and they don't seem ashamed of it. 

Jim opens his mouth, but Spock squeezes his hand in warning. Right. Let Spock handle this. Look pretty. Look in love. Shut the fuck up. 

“Well, James has a very particular way of going through the world, doesn't he?” Spock notes, receiving a few giggles from the crowd. 

Jim can’t exactly tell if he’s being mocked or complimented, and he sure doesn't fucking like it.

“I must admit I found him perplexing when he first entered the modeling scene, with his peculiar methods and straight-forward attitude-” okay, he’s definitely being mocked, “-but you can’t argue with results, can you? And no one can deny that James is a most talented and handsome man. Which is why, when my modeling partner T’Pring had left for Italy for the annual fashion show, I myself had requested for James to replace her.”

And here it was, hook, line, and sinker. 

The room has gone quiet, and Jim stares at him with his mouth open. Was he being honest, or was this part of the deception? Jim honestly could not tell. It must be a lie, right?

Right?

Carol regains her composure faster then the rest of them, and although Jim doesn't turn to look at her, he can hear the delight in her voice as she asks, “Do correct me if I'm misunderstanding this, but what I'm hearing here is that you have requested Jim to join Vulcan in hopes for something to bloom between the two of you. could that be right?”

And then Spock’s eyes meet his own, and he says, “Not consciously, no, but I will admit… I knew I liked him on that very first day we met on the job.” And for a moment, Jim doesn't know what to believe anymore.

Then it dawns on him. I moved to Vulcan, you fell madly in love with me, I was gracious enough to agree to date you, and here we are.

Spock had given him exactly the backstory he asked for. 

“...Wow, Spock. Jim seems as surprised as all of us. Did you not tell him that before?” Carol asks, latching onto the tension building between them.

“Didn't I?” Spock asks Jim, although they both know fully well he didn’t. 

“Do you have an answer for such a bold confession, Jim?” Carol asks him. 

Well, there is only one answer for that kind of confession, isn't there?

Fuck, he hopes Bones isn't watching after all.

Jim grabs Spock's face, and bashes his lips against Spock's in a kiss.

There's a moment of smugness, a clear sense of victory as Jim's lips meet Spock's smooth, marble-like lips. The crowd goes wild in the background, and Jim has to keep himself from smiling.

And then Spock kisses him back. 

Spock kisses him back and Jim's ears start ringing. Spock kisses him back and his entire body heat rises. His heart stops. His lungs fail. Spock kisses him and Jim sees stars.

Jim deepens the kiss, but Spock pulls away. Carol laughs as Jim chases after him, dazed.

“Quite the response. I can see the feeling’s mutual… Sadly, that's our time for this segment. We will bid goodbye to our lovers here and go to a quick commercial break, and coming up next is-”

Jim isn’t listening. He doesn't care. He barely notices as Spock gets to his feet and leads Jim back to the dressing room, where they left their everyday clothes. He does notice that Spock doesn't let go of his hand even when they exit the camera and the audience’s view.

What the fuck?