(returning to the cabana, there's no trace of spock, so kirk showers the salt and sand from his skin and begins his rituals. it's the first time he's been hesitant to touch himself, erection a relentless presence since the beach. he's certain it'd be impossible to avoid thinking about him and more difficult still to keep from knocking—again and far less politely—which inspires him to not. being accompanied by a "persistent and unnecessary" reminder for the better part of the hour it takes him to primp and preen is annoying but ultimately ignorable. unlike his more humbling moments in the enterprise's gymnasium, at least he's in private and not the subject of careful study by his curious crew. his first officer had always kept his line of sight level with his face, past his shoulder, or directly over his head out of respect, but he knew. they both knew. their recent foray into romance will have raised as many flags as he has in the past, but he thinks, at that moment, that he'd rather set himself on fire than bring himself to orgasm with spock cognizant of that fact before their first official date. and if there have been times when he's done so before being made aware of their mental link, they don't damn well count.
kirk decides to wear green. the tailor told him it brought out the colour in his eyes and, flattered, he bought it before checking the price tag like a sucker. it is finely made, though, and it suits him. therefore, it isn't the blazer's fault it's been second-guessed at least five times, held with a tie against a white button-up that he can't decide to dress down or up. heaven forbid he show up in something casual, because if he's familiar with spock's culture—he's unconfident in the preferences of the many, but something of an expert in the preferences of the one—high-flown vulcans don't do casual. he has no standard of measurement for how elegant spock's outfit is going to be, knowing only that it will be eye-catching and it will be better than his. once kirk's accepted that, choosing the rest is easy.
leaving two hours early from the cottage on the beach is an executive decision he makes after he spends ten minutes walking the living area in a closed cleaning loop. it'd be nice he thought, for us to return together to a tidy environment. then his pulse got away from him. suffice to say, he's at the restaurant's bar for a reason and there he waits, nursing a stabilizing brandy, for their table to clear.
they've been waiting a long time for this. spock knew before kirk did that their lives were destined to intersect, though the meaning of it escaped him until only recently. all of the shifts they spent admiring how the other worked, all of the missions they went on fearing for one another's safety, all of the visits they made to each other's quarters under the impression that the person before them was unobtainable for reasons beyond their control culminated into this beautiful accident. with every sip of his beverage, ice clinks against the side of its crystal glass; he considers that it might've all been chance. similar to particle collisions in seas of unborn stars that once comprised the universe, each impact responsible for one thing they know and a million things they don't. their odds, by that logic, would be staggering and stacked against them. he can only believe in what spock believes: they are one split soul, striving to return to create a whole.
that's what feels right.
he takes his coaster with his drink and thanks the bartender as he's escorted by the hostess to their table. they'll be seated against towering windows at the back of the room, wall a single pane he finds is composed of a material that refracts light and glimmers as though faceted. only when his fingers skim the exterior does kirk realize that it's a thin sheet of water suspended by magic that neither buckles with the wind nor ripples under his invasive touch. it's like spock's projection of the ocean, cleverly created to wow, and he finally expresses through their bond that he's arrived and already prepared to show him something marvellous.)
[ It isn't often that Spock is overwhelmed, for the Vulcan mind itself has many safeguards in place to prevent any such thing from happening. Now, however, it has become necessary for him to conjure those boundaries consciously, for if he doesn't his human emotions may succeed in sidelining his Vulcan practicality. He has agreed to a private, intimate dinner with his superior officer, one which is not predicated upon sheer proximity, work, or even friendliness.
This is a dinner which will celebrate their relationship and possibly deepen it, for while the Vulcan perspective on romance has its necessary limitations the view of lifelong bonds is robust and intrinsically understood.
Their conversation in the library made him fully aware of the simple fact that to remove James Kirk from his life will require entirely deadening a large part of himself. It also made him aware that should he remain, in any capacity, his affection for and dedication to the man will do nothing but grow. It was with this in mind that he agreed to the dinner at all, predicting that such an opportunity would arise given his captain's behavior as of late.
Any self-satisfaction with his own statistically-measured computations is short-lived, however, forcing himself smoothly to his feet after meticulously formulating his plan for the next few hours in his mind. He will shelter himself from Kirk's thoughts entirely and in doing so offer him some much-needed privacy as he makes his way to the boutique he'd admired on his morning walk, soul rebelling at the separation all the way. ]
He had assured Kirk, after all, that it would be, and thus it is with forty-seven seconds to spare that he arrives to address the hostess, considering it a sufficient buffer to allow for brief conversation and then his direction to their table. Ultimately the guidance is unnecessary. The second he feels a presence seeking to intersect with his own, he knows where Jim Kirk is.
The back of a golden head, crowned with hair lightened by hot beach days and bright rays of sunlight, arrests his attention immediately when he turns a moment before the young lady indicates his table. He thanks her with a short nod and his legs start to carry him forward almost unconsciously a moment later – does he have any choice any longer to stay away? It takes a purposeful lift of his chin for his composure to become close to regained once he's at his side, finally stepping fully within view as slender fingers alight momentarily on the back of Kirk's chair before finding his own. ]
You're early, Captain. I anticipated that this might be the case.
[ He's beautiful.
It's the first unhelpful thought that strikes him as he draws out his chair to take a seat, no longer able to dwell on his own careful fashion choices when the man opposite him is so arresting. It's with a numb hand and a frozen, unreadable expression that he hooks his bag onto the back of his chair and then fixes an impatient gaze back onto his captain. Presented in a way that so few others have seen him, out of his command golds and relaxed, intimate, honest. His attention fixes onto eyes that remind him of nebulas frozen into awe-inspiring displays of power, roiling from within with mysteries unknowable. He's dedicated the first half of his life to understanding the secrets of space. He feels he'd need even longer to understand this feeling. ]
You composed your outfit well. Most flattering, and an ensemble I have not previously seen. [ It falls so, so achingly short of all he truly wants to say. And only now does he seem to even acknowledge their surroundings with a glance towards that sheet of water and a quiet "fascinating" muttered under his breath. ]
In point of fact, your choice of restaurant is also suitable. You have my compliments.
(as cliché and unscientific as it is to report time's halting, kirk, raising his face to behold the man at his side, decides the feeling is accurate. while it's more credible coming from him, someone who has experienced being put on pause, it remains untrue; the restaurant and its waitstaff are as preoccupied as they were when spock walked in. from now until they part, everything that doesn't matter will be stripped away. and all that's left seems to be more than he can handle, slow smile his only outlet for the excess appreciation welling up in his chest at the sight of him.
after spock removes his hand but before he sits, adrenaline and midwestern manners force kirk out of his chair in both greeting and invitation. in his stricken and unspeaking state, he overtly takes the opportunity he's been so graciously given to admire him in whole.
each item is catalogued: black boots, ankle-cut with a pointed toe; black pants, hemmed to lengthen mile-long legs; a black turtleneck, fabric's tight knit accentuating a strong chest; a black coat, creaseless, hung from broad shoulders. everything expensive, tailored and matched to kohl-black lashes and to hair shining like obsidian in the light of the setting sun.
kirk doesn't have a breath left in his lungs to hold. dark and warm, it's undoubtedly an outfit for an iowan autumn. this may be why, among countless other reasons, he's so attracted to it. he's always seen his friend as a masterpiece of art and music and poetry; therefore, he loves what is, for marilla, an unconventional choice. its contrary nature suits spock, because while kirk dresses like the others—in white and bright colours, and in light linens and flowing silks—spock dresses like himself. he is demonstratively unique. kirk wonders if he's seeing in spock's outfit a conscious acceptance of what their evening together means. he'd be satisfied if the reason were far simpler than that, but he's found that not to be the case with his often mystifying first officer.
right now, this second, questions don't matter. spock is, as no other word will suffice, exquisite.)
Thank you, Spock, I'm very pleased to hear you say so. (he says, taking his seat to absorb the validating praise he finds irresistible.
this time the relationship is built on an unshakeable foundation of trust. this time mistakes won't become barriers to overcome but conversation pieces designed to bring them closer together. this time it's right, finally, and it's affecting him more than he suspected it might.)
The hostess was kind enough not to correct me when I asked to reserve a table near the "window." Imagine my surprise when my finger went straight through it. (but that's not what he's been desperate to tell him, years of restraint finally slipping from his hands. the speed at which it all unravels from its moorings would be enough to burn his palms.)
[ Any attempts to retain his focus on a pane of water he would, in any other circumstance, refuse to leave unexamined, are rendered utterly moot once Kirk begins speaking. Rich brown eyes instantly snap back to warm hazel, as keenly aware of the fact that they fail to meet his own as he is of the full three buttons his normally fastidious captain has left unfastened below his collar. Would his skin radiate heat, sun-kissed as it's been on this day and the day prior? That is a logical assumption, given the tendency of human bodies to gather blood at the sight of fresh burns to aid in the healing process.
The fact that the thought occurred to him at all is less logical. ]
I would hardly classify such a statement as professional. [ For a moment it's almost as if he'll extend this charade past its welcome, all until one of those upswept brows quirks and his hands fold primly on the table's surface. ]
Jim.
[ The switch from title to name is, of course, deliberate. ]
It is rare that I am afforded the opportunity to choose my own style of clothing, nor do I often wish to. On this occasion I made an exception.
(there's only one thing kirk has to say to such a playful brow:) To Hell with professionalism. (no one in heaven nor on earth can stop him from admiring how handsome spock's high collar looks against olive skin cast in fractured light. his smile illustrates as much, only turning sheepish after "delight" has had its turn.)
I've been here for some time, actually, which was long enough to have a drink at the bar. Honestly, Spock, I was nervous, (he admits,) and excited about tonight, so I decided to come early.
(palms that have turned skyward during his explanation clasp together when he's done, and his knuckles come to rest against his empty tumbler.
there aren't many things he'd omit when speaking to his friend. there are aspects of his personal life that he chooses not to volunteer, the only obvious exceptions, but their trust in one another generates something in him that's more fundamental than that. he cares and strives to be as honest with spock as spock is with him; moreover, his is the only judgement he'll allow with little protest because it is always accurate and often warranted.)
Tell me about your day—and don't leave anything out.
[ His head tilts, a minute gesture but one that is amplified in the translation from Vulcan to human. Spock is, after all, an incredibly deliberate man. ]
As you are in the midst of cursing professionalism, I believe I am to understand that your last entreatment is merely that and not an order. As such, I refuse to answer until we have first discussed your nervousness.
[ Under any other circumstance this might be Jim Kirk's dear friend teasing him near to the point of cruelty, but in this one? His interest is genuine, all in spite of the door such an answer might open. Humans are generally made nervous, after all, by one of two things. ]
It is likely you either anticipate yourself walking into an unknown situation or you believe you will be scrutinized. You have endured my scrutiny for many years.
[ Which leaves one alternative. Slender fingers find his own glass, his sip of water kept short and his gaze unwavering. ]
(what had he considered only moments ago? "always accurate and often warranted"?)
I'd normally never accuse you of being withholding... (however, says the trailing silence. his smile persists even as eyes angle low to characterful fingers. spock's interest in the inner workings of his mind is always flattering.)
I thrive under scrutiny, so the second option you've given me, I think, is what it must be. This is an unknown situation, one I know that I'm ready to explore with you, yet I've never– there have been and will be aspects of our relationship that I've never experienced. We've come so far together; I don't want anything to ruin it.
[ Spock, quietly, thinks of the many times in which his captain has directly or indirectly accused him of being withholding. He then politely mentally shelves these memories, folds his hands neatly on the table, and listens. ]
"Ruin"? [ His voice is quiet, almost lost in the gentle background music offered by their upscale dining destination. They fit in almost too well here, over-accustomed to new destinations and the adoption of foreign cultures but always then it had been a struggle to blend unnoticed. Here, somehow, so little effort is required. It steals away a distraction he often relies on and forces him to see nothing but Kirk, an eloquent man who's stumbling over his attempts to express his vulnerability to his stoic first officer. ]
Jim, that is an impossibility.
If a star becomes a red giant, is it then "ruined"? No. It merely is both itself and new in tandem. There is nothing mutable about our connection; it is a fact of existence as certain to me as any law of physics. No alteration would tarnish it or break it irreparably.
[ And though he did not wish to start their dinner with a topic quite so heavy, they cannot proceed with this misunderstanding. ]
(an impossibility. not an improbability, but an absolute: they cannot ruin this bond because it is unable to occur.
spock's conclusion lacks numbers and it takes the breath out of him. there are no percentages used to measure their compatibility or the likelihood that they'll succeed in loving one another. spock does not speculate. to him, it is a proven fact; kirk allows himself to believe it too.
this is the man i will spend the rest of my life with.)
Human irrationality, Spock. (his voice is steady. distantly, he wonders how that could be possible when the pace of his heart has doubled and his jaw aches with the desire to kiss him, to thank him. the strength of it has nowhere to go but across the table, bond lighting up with intent like the flash of a silenced bridge alarm.)
Years ago, when I was facing court-martial, you testified for me at Starbase Eleven... your words reminded me of what you said to the board and to Prosecutor Shaw in my defence. "It is not his nature." (he has, in his weakest moments, accessed the transcript of the hearing.) It's not our bond's nature to break. I want to make you a promise in light of this:
If there exists any part of me that's new, it's yours. I want you to know it.
I remember it well, [ he responds quietly, as if making space for the memories to be heard within his own mind. ]
You told me I may be able to beat my next captain at chess, but I was still unwilling to accept that I would have another. It took time for me to realize that it was your attempt to make the situation seem less dire for both of us.
[ Suddenly his hands unclasp, drawing back from their orderly placement on the table's surface as if something has disturbed that perfect composure of his, and his throat is even cleared after a subtle shift in weight. His mental barriers, now, are fully raised. Perhaps they should have been sooner. ]
I am... pleased. Pleased that your beliefs are in line with my own. Your Albert Einstein once said that the world as we have created it is a process of our thinking, and that it cannot be changed without us changing our thinking. I believe the same can be said for our relationship.
Intrinsically it is strong and necessary. Anything else is a detail of framing. [ They are connected. That is enough. Romance, their work together, even their friendship... it's all a matter of perspective. A different way to express the bond they have. ]
... I will now tell you about my day, if you still wish it.
I'm glad, Spock, that you took what you did from our conversation. I wasn't in the most light-hearted mood, but it helped to have your support. (spock didn't want his captain to give up hope any more than kirk wanted to alarm his first officer.)
You've always provided me with that balance. In this, I think we've always had the proper mindset. Now, all that's left for us to do is to enjoy learning about each other in this new light. I don't intend to let a little thing like nerves stop me. (his face angles away as if giving spock a moment of privacy, unable to act regretful or ashamed of the thoughts he's undoubtedly projected. this is their reality now. this is what spock makes him feel.
with a raise of his hand and a nod, he allows their waitress to collect what she's been waiting for his signal to deliver: a bottle of fine sparkling wine, purportedly the best in marilla, and elegant glass flutes. the tray is accompanied by their amuse-bouche, two bite-sized coins of eggplant-wrapped hummus. spicy.
he thanks the server, refusing further assistance, eyebrows innocently raised as he glances back to his date.)
[ The compliments flow ceaselessly and Spock isn't so ignorant as to assume that it's his captain's attempt at flattery. That would run the risk of having his own sincere praise misconstrued as sycophancy, and he simply cannot allow that. ]
I have already admitted to pleasure. Must I also now speak of my capacity for enjoyment? [ Really, Jim.
He does not wait to see if his own brand of joke has landed, however, gaze instead lifting to catch sight of the woman Kirk summons, her smile professional but her eyes knowing. He's planned this much, and so quickly? It's impressive, there's no doubt of that, and to know he's the focus of the efforts isn't just humbling or meaningful. It's got him appraising his captain with a newly quirked brow, straightening his posture to accommodate the food being placed between them. Most impressive. Exactly what he would expect from polite human courtship, and his own standards have never been low. ]
Indeed? [ Slim fingers pinch at the stem of his glass, holding it in place for the anticipated pour. ]
I awoke from a brief rest at 5:44 am. I dreamed I was cultivating a hirat plant in suboptimal soil, though I had devised an appropriate acidic fertilizer to overcome the issue. I then engaged in meditation until 7:01, at which time you and I proceeded to dress for the day and retrieve breakfast.
I trust I do not need to recount the meal we shared.
(relaxed expressions now come easily, lifting the bottle with an adoring smile across the table. spock has, over the years, blown his expectations out of the water. it might've been an uncomfortable road for him to walk, but his personality has never shined so brightly, silvery and soothing like the cool light of the moon.)
I believe you've given me far more insight than I'm due, Mr. Spock; I can deduce the rest. (kirk responds, hazarding a glance up as he rolls the bottle to catch errant droplets of sparkling wine. what little he's missed seeps into the fabric of the napkin secured in a knot at the neck.)
Illogically, breakfast on vacation tastes better than breakfast elsewhere. I enjoyed the quiet and I enjoyed discussing our separate plans for the day... it shouldn't have surprised me that you agreed to come to Marilla, but, despite its newness and the obvious scientific marvels, it is more of a tourist destination. A getaway from work.
(spock has always been averse to taking shore leave and has accrued a staggering amount of leave. the amusement shows in the creasing of kirk's eyes, pouring himself a glass of wine before investigating his eggplant with a thoughtful tilt of his head.)
If I didn't know any better I'd think you were trying to spoil me. What, my friend, is a hirat?
[ He'll deduce the rest, will he? That's almost a dangerous thought. It is, after all, deductions without outright answers that led to their last serious disagreement about their potential relationship status. However... that in turn also led here. To both of them seated at this table, sharing wine and company, with Spock's heart beating a rapid hum in his side in spite of a regally calm expression.
It is, of course, illogical. There is no reason for a heightened, excited physical response on his part. No cause for anxiety when he is in the company of his best friend, his soulmate. A man who has judged only the quality of his work and his acceptance of himself. ]
A clustered fruit native to Vulcan, botanically similar to your berries and aesthetically likened to grapes in particular. I will ensure that you have the opportunity to sample it in the future. I will also suggest that you have botany reviews added to your mandatory training.
[ His glass is raised, then, just enough to indicate the expectation of a very human toast. ]
If you would like to take this trip out of my accumulated leave, I will accept. I do believe, however, that I shall be required to spend more of my time here relaxing in order to best utilize that time. I should prefer company.
No, no, your staggering amount of accumulated leave should remain intact. You'll break a record eventually. Instead, I encourage you to use some of that time writing up a report on my many oversights when we're back on the Enterprise, Mr. Spock, (kirk returns, eggplant entirely forgotten in his nervous excitement to be toasted by his best friend and soulmate. he's in deeper trouble than he could've possibly imagined.
his defence response?)
If there are any Vulcans on board equipped with the knowledge necessary to instruct me on their planet's flora, I'd like nothing more than to brush up with them privately on the subject. (a blatantly suggestive remark and bid for physical contact, the light of their candle dancing in his eyes.) ... here's to relaxing in good company.
(he tips his glass towards spock's to touch their edges together with an outcry of crystal. pure, if the clarity of the ring is to be believed, and perhaps denser than he anticipated. it isn't loud, but long enough for him to still the vibration with his fingers.)
I would still like to experience the art museum with you, and there's an exhibit elsewhere on the unique terraforming they've done in this province. Apart from that, is there anything else you'd like to see before our time in Marilla comes to an end? Anywhere you'd like to go?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
2/2
kirk decides to wear green. the tailor told him it brought out the colour in his eyes and, flattered, he bought it before checking the price tag like a sucker. it is finely made, though, and it suits him. therefore, it isn't the blazer's fault it's been second-guessed at least five times, held with a tie against a white button-up that he can't decide to dress down or up. heaven forbid he show up in something casual, because if he's familiar with spock's culture—he's unconfident in the preferences of the many, but something of an expert in the preferences of the one—high-flown vulcans don't do casual. he has no standard of measurement for how elegant spock's outfit is going to be, knowing only that it will be eye-catching and it will be better than his. once kirk's accepted that, choosing the rest is easy.
leaving two hours early from the cottage on the beach is an executive decision he makes after he spends ten minutes walking the living area in a closed cleaning loop. it'd be nice he thought, for us to return together to a tidy environment. then his pulse got away from him. suffice to say, he's at the restaurant's bar for a reason and there he waits, nursing a stabilizing brandy, for their table to clear.
they've been waiting a long time for this. spock knew before kirk did that their lives were destined to intersect, though the meaning of it escaped him until only recently. all of the shifts they spent admiring how the other worked, all of the missions they went on fearing for one another's safety, all of the visits they made to each other's quarters under the impression that the person before them was unobtainable for reasons beyond their control culminated into this beautiful accident. with every sip of his beverage, ice clinks against the side of its crystal glass; he considers that it might've all been chance. similar to particle collisions in seas of unborn stars that once comprised the universe, each impact responsible for one thing they know and a million things they don't. their odds, by that logic, would be staggering and stacked against them. he can only believe in what spock believes: they are one split soul, striving to return to create a whole.
that's what feels right.
he takes his coaster with his drink and thanks the bartender as he's escorted by the hostess to their table. they'll be seated against towering windows at the back of the room, wall a single pane he finds is composed of a material that refracts light and glimmers as though faceted. only when his fingers skim the exterior does kirk realize that it's a thin sheet of water suspended by magic that neither buckles with the wind nor ripples under his invasive touch. it's like spock's projection of the ocean, cleverly created to wow, and he finally expresses through their bond that he's arrived and already prepared to show him something marvellous.)
1/3
This is a dinner which will celebrate their relationship and possibly deepen it, for while the Vulcan perspective on romance has its necessary limitations the view of lifelong bonds is robust and intrinsically understood.
Their conversation in the library made him fully aware of the simple fact that to remove James Kirk from his life will require entirely deadening a large part of himself. It also made him aware that should he remain, in any capacity, his affection for and dedication to the man will do nothing but grow. It was with this in mind that he agreed to the dinner at all, predicting that such an opportunity would arise given his captain's behavior as of late.
Any self-satisfaction with his own statistically-measured computations is short-lived, however, forcing himself smoothly to his feet after meticulously formulating his plan for the next few hours in his mind. He will shelter himself from Kirk's thoughts entirely and in doing so offer him some much-needed privacy as he makes his way to the boutique he'd admired on his morning walk, soul rebelling at the separation all the way. ]
2/3
3/3
He had assured Kirk, after all, that it would be, and thus it is with forty-seven seconds to spare that he arrives to address the hostess, considering it a sufficient buffer to allow for brief conversation and then his direction to their table. Ultimately the guidance is unnecessary. The second he feels a presence seeking to intersect with his own, he knows where Jim Kirk is.
The back of a golden head, crowned with hair lightened by hot beach days and bright rays of sunlight, arrests his attention immediately when he turns a moment before the young lady indicates his table. He thanks her with a short nod and his legs start to carry him forward almost unconsciously a moment later – does he have any choice any longer to stay away? It takes a purposeful lift of his chin for his composure to become close to regained once he's at his side, finally stepping fully within view as slender fingers alight momentarily on the back of Kirk's chair before finding his own. ]
You're early, Captain. I anticipated that this might be the case.
[ He's beautiful.
It's the first unhelpful thought that strikes him as he draws out his chair to take a seat, no longer able to dwell on his own careful fashion choices when the man opposite him is so arresting. It's with a numb hand and a frozen, unreadable expression that he hooks his bag onto the back of his chair and then fixes an impatient gaze back onto his captain. Presented in a way that so few others have seen him, out of his command golds and relaxed, intimate, honest. His attention fixes onto eyes that remind him of nebulas frozen into awe-inspiring displays of power, roiling from within with mysteries unknowable. He's dedicated the first half of his life to understanding the secrets of space. He feels he'd need even longer to understand this feeling. ]
You composed your outfit well. Most flattering, and an ensemble I have not previously seen. [ It falls so, so achingly short of all he truly wants to say. And only now does he seem to even acknowledge their surroundings with a glance towards that sheet of water and a quiet "fascinating" muttered under his breath. ]
In point of fact, your choice of restaurant is also suitable. You have my compliments.
no subject
after spock removes his hand but before he sits, adrenaline and midwestern manners force kirk out of his chair in both greeting and invitation. in his stricken and unspeaking state, he overtly takes the opportunity he's been so graciously given to admire him in whole.
each item is catalogued: black boots, ankle-cut with a pointed toe; black pants, hemmed to lengthen mile-long legs; a black turtleneck, fabric's tight knit accentuating a strong chest; a black coat, creaseless, hung from broad shoulders. everything expensive, tailored and matched to kohl-black lashes and to hair shining like obsidian in the light of the setting sun.
kirk doesn't have a breath left in his lungs to hold. dark and warm, it's undoubtedly an outfit for an iowan autumn. this may be why, among countless other reasons, he's so attracted to it. he's always seen his friend as a masterpiece of art and music and poetry; therefore, he loves what is, for marilla, an unconventional choice. its contrary nature suits spock, because while kirk dresses like the others—in white and bright colours, and in light linens and flowing silks—spock dresses like himself. he is demonstratively unique. kirk wonders if he's seeing in spock's outfit a conscious acceptance of what their evening together means. he'd be satisfied if the reason were far simpler than that, but he's found that not to be the case with his often mystifying first officer.
right now, this second, questions don't matter. spock is, as no other word will suffice, exquisite.)
Thank you, Spock, I'm very pleased to hear you say so. (he says, taking his seat to absorb the validating praise he finds irresistible.
this time the relationship is built on an unshakeable foundation of trust. this time mistakes won't become barriers to overcome but conversation pieces designed to bring them closer together. this time it's right, finally, and it's affecting him more than he suspected it might.)
The hostess was kind enough not to correct me when I asked to reserve a table near the "window." Imagine my surprise when my finger went straight through it. (but that's not what he's been desperate to tell him, years of restraint finally slipping from his hands. the speed at which it all unravels from its moorings would be enough to burn his palms.)
You look incredible.
no subject
The fact that the thought occurred to him at all is less logical. ]
I would hardly classify such a statement as professional. [ For a moment it's almost as if he'll extend this charade past its welcome, all until one of those upswept brows quirks and his hands fold primly on the table's surface. ]
Jim.
[ The switch from title to name is, of course, deliberate. ]
It is rare that I am afforded the opportunity to choose my own style of clothing, nor do I often wish to. On this occasion I made an exception.
Have you been waiting long?
no subject
I've been here for some time, actually, which was long enough to have a drink at the bar. Honestly, Spock, I was nervous, (he admits,) and excited about tonight, so I decided to come early.
(palms that have turned skyward during his explanation clasp together when he's done, and his knuckles come to rest against his empty tumbler.
there aren't many things he'd omit when speaking to his friend. there are aspects of his personal life that he chooses not to volunteer, the only obvious exceptions, but their trust in one another generates something in him that's more fundamental than that. he cares and strives to be as honest with spock as spock is with him; moreover, his is the only judgement he'll allow with little protest because it is always accurate and often warranted.)
Tell me about your day—and don't leave anything out.
no subject
As you are in the midst of cursing professionalism, I believe I am to understand that your last entreatment is merely that and not an order. As such, I refuse to answer until we have first discussed your nervousness.
[ Under any other circumstance this might be Jim Kirk's dear friend teasing him near to the point of cruelty, but in this one? His interest is genuine, all in spite of the door such an answer might open. Humans are generally made nervous, after all, by one of two things. ]
It is likely you either anticipate yourself walking into an unknown situation or you believe you will be scrutinized. You have endured my scrutiny for many years.
[ Which leaves one alternative. Slender fingers find his own glass, his sip of water kept short and his gaze unwavering. ]
no subject
I'd normally never accuse you of being withholding... (however, says the trailing silence. his smile persists even as eyes angle low to characterful fingers. spock's interest in the inner workings of his mind is always flattering.)
I thrive under scrutiny, so the second option you've given me, I think, is what it must be. This is an unknown situation, one I know that I'm ready to explore with you, yet I've never– there have been and will be aspects of our relationship that I've never experienced. We've come so far together; I don't want anything to ruin it.
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"Ruin"? [ His voice is quiet, almost lost in the gentle background music offered by their upscale dining destination. They fit in almost too well here, over-accustomed to new destinations and the adoption of foreign cultures but always then it had been a struggle to blend unnoticed. Here, somehow, so little effort is required. It steals away a distraction he often relies on and forces him to see nothing but Kirk, an eloquent man who's stumbling over his attempts to express his vulnerability to his stoic first officer. ]
Jim, that is an impossibility.
If a star becomes a red giant, is it then "ruined"? No. It merely is both itself and new in tandem. There is nothing mutable about our connection; it is a fact of existence as certain to me as any law of physics. No alteration would tarnish it or break it irreparably.
[ And though he did not wish to start their dinner with a topic quite so heavy, they cannot proceed with this misunderstanding. ]
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spock's conclusion lacks numbers and it takes the breath out of him. there are no percentages used to measure their compatibility or the likelihood that they'll succeed in loving one another. spock does not speculate. to him, it is a proven fact; kirk allows himself to believe it too.
this is the man i will spend the rest of my life with.)
Human irrationality, Spock. (his voice is steady. distantly, he wonders how that could be possible when the pace of his heart has doubled and his jaw aches with the desire to kiss him, to thank him. the strength of it has nowhere to go but across the table, bond lighting up with intent like the flash of a silenced bridge alarm.)
Years ago, when I was facing court-martial, you testified for me at Starbase Eleven... your words reminded me of what you said to the board and to Prosecutor Shaw in my defence. "It is not his nature." (he has, in his weakest moments, accessed the transcript of the hearing.) It's not our bond's nature to break. I want to make you a promise in light of this:
If there exists any part of me that's new, it's yours. I want you to know it.
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You told me I may be able to beat my next captain at chess, but I was still unwilling to accept that I would have another. It took time for me to realize that it was your attempt to make the situation seem less dire for both of us.
[ Suddenly his hands unclasp, drawing back from their orderly placement on the table's surface as if something has disturbed that perfect composure of his, and his throat is even cleared after a subtle shift in weight. His mental barriers, now, are fully raised. Perhaps they should have been sooner. ]
I am... pleased. Pleased that your beliefs are in line with my own. Your Albert Einstein once said that the world as we have created it is a process of our thinking, and that it cannot be changed without us changing our thinking. I believe the same can be said for our relationship.
Intrinsically it is strong and necessary. Anything else is a detail of framing. [ They are connected. That is enough. Romance, their work together, even their friendship... it's all a matter of perspective. A different way to express the bond they have. ]
... I will now tell you about my day, if you still wish it.
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You've always provided me with that balance. In this, I think we've always had the proper mindset. Now, all that's left for us to do is to enjoy learning about each other in this new light. I don't intend to let a little thing like nerves stop me. (his face angles away as if giving spock a moment of privacy, unable to act regretful or ashamed of the thoughts he's undoubtedly projected. this is their reality now. this is what spock makes him feel.
with a raise of his hand and a nod, he allows their waitress to collect what she's been waiting for his signal to deliver: a bottle of fine sparkling wine, purportedly the best in marilla, and elegant glass flutes. the tray is accompanied by their amuse-bouche, two bite-sized coins of eggplant-wrapped hummus. spicy.
he thanks the server, refusing further assistance, eyebrows innocently raised as he glances back to his date.)
Please, go ahead. I'll pour you some wine.
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I have already admitted to pleasure. Must I also now speak of my capacity for enjoyment? [ Really, Jim.
He does not wait to see if his own brand of joke has landed, however, gaze instead lifting to catch sight of the woman Kirk summons, her smile professional but her eyes knowing. He's planned this much, and so quickly? It's impressive, there's no doubt of that, and to know he's the focus of the efforts isn't just humbling or meaningful. It's got him appraising his captain with a newly quirked brow, straightening his posture to accommodate the food being placed between them. Most impressive. Exactly what he would expect from polite human courtship, and his own standards have never been low. ]
Indeed? [ Slim fingers pinch at the stem of his glass, holding it in place for the anticipated pour. ]
I awoke from a brief rest at 5:44 am. I dreamed I was cultivating a hirat plant in suboptimal soil, though I had devised an appropriate acidic fertilizer to overcome the issue. I then engaged in meditation until 7:01, at which time you and I proceeded to dress for the day and retrieve breakfast.
I trust I do not need to recount the meal we shared.
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I believe you've given me far more insight than I'm due, Mr. Spock; I can deduce the rest. (kirk responds, hazarding a glance up as he rolls the bottle to catch errant droplets of sparkling wine. what little he's missed seeps into the fabric of the napkin secured in a knot at the neck.)
Illogically, breakfast on vacation tastes better than breakfast elsewhere. I enjoyed the quiet and I enjoyed discussing our separate plans for the day... it shouldn't have surprised me that you agreed to come to Marilla, but, despite its newness and the obvious scientific marvels, it is more of a tourist destination. A getaway from work.
(spock has always been averse to taking shore leave and has accrued a staggering amount of leave. the amusement shows in the creasing of kirk's eyes, pouring himself a glass of wine before investigating his eggplant with a thoughtful tilt of his head.)
If I didn't know any better I'd think you were trying to spoil me. What, my friend, is a hirat?
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It is, of course, illogical. There is no reason for a heightened, excited physical response on his part. No cause for anxiety when he is in the company of his best friend, his soulmate. A man who has judged only the quality of his work and his acceptance of himself. ]
A clustered fruit native to Vulcan, botanically similar to your berries and aesthetically likened to grapes in particular. I will ensure that you have the opportunity to sample it in the future. I will also suggest that you have botany reviews added to your mandatory training.
[ His glass is raised, then, just enough to indicate the expectation of a very human toast. ]
If you would like to take this trip out of my accumulated leave, I will accept. I do believe, however, that I shall be required to spend more of my time here relaxing in order to best utilize that time. I should prefer company.
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his defence response?)
If there are any Vulcans on board equipped with the knowledge necessary to instruct me on their planet's flora, I'd like nothing more than to brush up with them privately on the subject. (a blatantly suggestive remark and bid for physical contact, the light of their candle dancing in his eyes.) ... here's to relaxing in good company.
(he tips his glass towards spock's to touch their edges together with an outcry of crystal. pure, if the clarity of the ring is to be believed, and perhaps denser than he anticipated. it isn't loud, but long enough for him to still the vibration with his fingers.)
I would still like to experience the art museum with you, and there's an exhibit elsewhere on the unique terraforming they've done in this province. Apart from that, is there anything else you'd like to see before our time in Marilla comes to an end? Anywhere you'd like to go?