The morning after the end of Spock's Pon Farr and Kirk's return to the land of the living, the household was once again gathered at the breakfast table. Well, everyone except for Scotty, who made all of his interjections from the couch in the living room, during commercials. It was weekly house meeting time, and even Chekov had deigned to wake up and join his housemates in their traditional "debriefing" hour.
Spock watched with concern as Kirk 'facilitated' (or more accurately--domineered) the meeting. Kirk had been on edge since he woke up from his fourteen hour "recovery nap" this morning. Wondering what could be the cause of Kirk's irascibility, and fearing that it might be himself, the Vulcan used all of his powers of observation and logic to attempt an intervention. The rest of the household was none too impressed with Kirk's peevishness and appeared ready to throttle the man. Spock sent mental touches along their fragile mind-link (a side effect of the shared Pon Farr) to calm him. It did cause Kirk's bunched shoulders to relax slightly, but the bossiness and sharp-tongued diatribe about the filth taking over the bathroom continued.
Kirk was still smarting from the way his housemates had tricked him last week, and spoke with extra pissiness to the mutinous ones. He wished he still had the power of demotion. For now though, he was avenging himself by giving his former officers a thorough tongue-lashing about their poor housekeeping. Of course, like all housekeeping tyrants, he neglected to recall his own contribution to the mess in question--a ring of beard fuzz that circled the inside of the sink from his shave before the meeting. Spock remembered it, but decided that it would be wiser not to mention it while Kirk was in such a black mood.
Finally, a seething Chekov pushed out his chair and rose up, done with the meeting and the bitchy commanding officer.
"I am going to have a cigarette." He tightened the tie on his robe and swiveled, heading for the door.
"Now wait just a minute, mister!" Kirk's voice went up in volume, just a notch. "We aren't finished here!"
"Vell, I am. Peh! Clean your own mess before talking about mine." He turned and spoke more softly to Uhura. "I vill be outside if you need me." She nodded, an envious light in her eyes. She was wishing that she had picked up smoking too, if only as a way out of this damned meeting. Chekov swished out of the room in his polar bear slippers and shut the door behind him.
Kirk grumbled to himself, "That boy has some nerve..." Uhura shrugged, Bones rolled his eyes, and Spock looked uncomfortable. Scotty hummed along to the theme song blaring on the TV and then belched impressively from the living room. Kirk looked up sharply.
That seemed to be the breaking point. All good starship captains have fiery tempers, useful for frightening subordinants into above-average work and for negotiating with Klingons, both. Not so good for cooperative house sharing, however, and everyone learned to avoid and resent the occasional outbursts Kirk was capable of. When they saw the look in Kirk's eyes as he rose from his chair, all three remaining at the table cringed inwardly and tried to make themselves as small as possible, while sending their prayers for Scotty.
They watched in horror as Kirk went over the utility closet and emerged with a hatchet. Spock tried to calculate whether the captain was actually capable of murderous rage, and unable to reach a safe percentage, moved himself to a position where he could disarm the angry captain before he inflicted any bodily harm. Kirk strode straight into the living room and set his hands on his hips, hatchet in his hand, in front of Scotty on the couch.
"You....watch.....too....much.....TV!" Scotty recoiled in horror as Kirk attacked the legs of the couch with the small but sharp and deadly hatchet. He inched backwards into the sofa until there was no where else to go and then made a leap for it, around Kirk and out of harm's way. Kirk barely seemed to register the escape. He just continued methodically destroying the two-seat sofa until bits of cushion fluff were filling the air around him and shredded bits of fabric clung to his clothes. Scotty had his head on Uhura's shoulder, too horrified to watch, and Spock stood a ways off, waiting for Kirk to wear himself out before taking him to their room to settle him down.
Finally the sofa was in pieces and Kirk was huffing and puffing to catch his breath. With the job done, all of his irrational anger left him and he looked around the room at his housemates. They all avoided his gaze except for Spock, and Kirk winced away from the puzzled look he received from the Vulcan. He hadn't fully reconciled himself to what had gone on between them just two nights ago, and he knew only that he didn't want that eyebrow raised in his direction under these circumstances.
****
Safe to say, Kirk was avoided for the rest of the day, and the housemates dealt with their resentments in their own quiet ways, taking it out on coworkers or the cabinets in the kitchen or in bottles of ale. It was all routine, although Kirk had never been quite so violent with a piece of furniture, and Kirk himself was pensive and regretful as he noticed the wide berth he was given. He winced every time he went out the door and downstairs to the front of the building where the mauled couch-bits were waiting for the trash collector to take them away.
Kirk smoothed this over in his mind by reminding himself that it was true that his housemates had lost the discipline of the service and were becoming more slovenly and disorganized as time went on. It's true, righteous indignation is a brilliant way to evade introspection, one used by many great men throughout history. Kirk didn't know if he deserved the title of great man, after all, he was sharing a dive apartment with five other people, but at the least he was a galactic hero, and felt that a certain amount of amnesty was his due. He also had many other things on his mind, and was too distracted by those, most prominent of them being a certain housemate with pointy ears, to really dwell on remorse for long.
****
At work that afternoon, Spock was distracted. He was very concerned by the incident at house meeting for several reasons. One was that Scotty had been obviously emotionally injured by the encounter. He knew enough about emotions from his own half-human heritage to know that those wounds could fester and grow septic more easily than physical injuries, and Scotty was, under it all, a proud man with a keen mind. To be treated so callously by a friend and commanding officer was no doubt weighing heavily on his mind.
Another concern was for the commanding officer himself. Kirk had not been the same since the end of Spock's pon farr, and Spock did not know when or how to approach him. They had not discussed the change in their relationship or what the long-term effects might be, and for one with an ordered mind such as Spock, this vagueness was acutely difficult (he would not allow himself to call it painful). He needed data from Jim to corroborate and reach a conclusion as to how their friendship/relationship should proceed, or if indeed it should. He was aware, and this, he could admit, pained him, that Kirk might wish to terminate their friendship altogether. If that were the case, one or the other of them might have to move out of the house, and since it was Spock's fault that the whole thing had occurred, he was ready to concede that he should be the one to leave.
Spock contemplated these possibilities as he swiped item after item across the scanner, mechanically asking what sort of bag the customer would like, and asking the question that had become the great question of his life outside of their house: cash, check or credit?
****
"Sometimes I can't believe that man." Uhura sat at the table with McCoy and Scotty, who seemed skittish without the television. "Scotty, honey, are you alright? Do you want me to call in sick for you tonight?"
Scotty shook his head. "Nah, lass. I'll go in. Thank ye for the offer, though." He sighed. "I dinna know where I'm supposed to sleep when I get back, but I'll go. I can save up for a new couch."
McCoy harrumphed. "He's gone too far this time. I thought that Spock would be good for him, but I think that boy has his head on backwards." He sighed. "Neither of them have talked since it happened, I'm sure. Jim lashes out when he's got something on his mind that he won't talk about. Spock just looks at him with mopey puppy-dog eyes. It's going to drive them both mad if they don't deal with it."
"It's going to drive us all mad," Uhura agreed. "How can we help?"
"I don't know if we should. I think we've interfered enough. Jim is still angry."
Uhura thought about it, then shrugged. "Well, what if we just encouraged Mister Spock? He isn't aware of our previous machinations."
****
The next morning, Spock was seated alone at the table eating a bowl of oatmeal, when McCoy strolled in from work.
"Hey there, Spock. What's your plan for the day?"
Spock looked at him warily. "I am going to work."
"That all? Huh. Well, have you seen Jim?"
"I believe he left to look for work. He was up before I woke this morning."
"Don't you guys usually eat breakfast together?"
Spock gave him a look that could have been interpreted as a threat. McCoy ignored it and waited for an answer. Spock spoke slowly and deliberately, a sure sign that he was unhappy.
"We have not done so this week, although it was our habit previously."
"Seems to me he has something on his mind."
"Indeed."
"Seems to me that he's a little scared."
Spock considered for a moment before answering.
"Our captain is not one to let fear impede his action."
"Spock, he's not our captain anymore. There are no Klingons knocking down the door. That I have no doubt he could handle. He has never backed down from any physical threat. But he's a man, and he's afraid of his own emotions, not unlike some other people I know. But he needs to learn to talk about them." McCoy stared Spock straight in the eye. Spock tolerated the look, but inside felt an urge to throttle the man for the intrusion.
"Doctor, as a Vulcan, I do not know how to talk about such things anymore than he does. It would be illogical to push him further when he does not wish to be pushed." At that, Spock stood up and left for his room. McCoy watched him go and sighed.
"So much for the direct approach."
****
It was midnight. Scotty sighed and shifted uncomfortably, trying to sleep on the floor where his couch had been. He was wrapped in his shabby warm comforter with another comforter donated by McCoy under him as padding, but it wasn't enough. He had only been trying to sleep for an hour, but he could tell that it was hopeless. He gathered his things and shuffled towards the room he was supposed to have been sharing with Chekov.
A few seconds later, a high-pitched shriek woke the rest of the household, and everyone (except Chekov, who was at 'work') poked their heads out of their respective rooms to see what was the matter. They saw a blubbering Scotty run from Chekov's room and into the kitchen, heard the refrigerator door open and slam shut, then heard the distinctive hiss of a beer can opening and the glugglug of a beer being consumed in one swallow. There was the sound of a second beer being consumed in the same fashion, and then a less panicked Scotsman belching and shuffling into the living room, sighing heavily and then flopping back down onto the floor.
The rest of the household was itching with curiosity, and fluttered into the hallway towards Chekov's room to see what had caused the fuss. They all crowded in and fumbled for a light. Spock found it first and clicked it on, an action quickly followed by several horrified shrieks in unison and a hasty exodus back into the hallway.
Kirk was the first one to regain his wits.
"In all the time I've been a starship captain, I have never seen anything that disgusting. How can he live like that?" He turned towards Scotty. "I understand why you chose the couch."
Scotty nodded, still dumb from the shock. Even Spock looked greener than usual.
"At least now we know what was in all those little packages he's been bringing home," Uhura said. "But how the hell are we going to explain those walls to our landlady?"
Kirk shrugged, then, courageously, thought to hazard another peek into the room. A double-wide bed jutting into the center of the room was covered in a bubble-gum pink comforter that dangled little tassels that dragged along the floor. The pillows were cased in white satin. The walls were a matching shade of bright, ungodly pinkness, with white satin curtains for the windows, and they were lined with shelves that overflowed with Barbies. They were almost all still in their packaging, or arranged on stands. They covered every surface besides the floor. There was so much glitter and shimmer from their outfits that it was almost blinding. Hundreds of Barbies with their perfect, white teeth and wide, stupid eyes stared down at anyone who stepped through the doorway. It was eerie. Kirk shuddered and backed quickly out of the room, turning off the light and closing the door behind him. There were some things that a captain just shouldn't know about a member of his crew.
****
Kirk was walking down by the waterfront park, near the dock that held his old ship, The Spirit of Ethan Allen. It was windy and cold, and he pulled the collar of his peacoat up around his neck. It was still early, too early to go looking for work, but he didn't want to be indoors, at least not in his apartment. He wandered across a grassy field, now scrubby looking and frost bitten. Kirk watched two men sitting on a bench at the edge of the field, talking animatedly. Suddenly, one of them reached over and kissed the other on the lips. Kirk blushed, feeling like an intruder, and felt a pang of something else in his chest. He thought of Spock. Spock had kissed him. He had kissed Spock. Ew, he thought. It sounded strange to him. Captain Kirk kissed Mr. Spock. Well, and more than kissed. But they weren't captain and first officer any more. They were just friends. Best friends. Okay, Kirk could admit to himself, he even loved Spock.
There was a path that meandered along the edge of the trees that lined the shore. He followed it to the end and then found another, less used path, and followed that. He found an old cement shipping platform and climbed up on it to sit and watch the water. When he didn't think about it in words, but remembered how it felt to be with Spock, nothing about it seemed wrong. In fact, Spock was a very attentive, very, erhm, thorough lover. And although some of it had been a little frightening (Vulcans are much stronger than humans), Kirk couldn't remember when he'd had more fun with someone. But that was weird too. Kirk had let himself be taken by someone larger and much stronger than himself. If he was on a ship, that would be terrible for ship's morale. Well, they weren't on a ship, and the service that claimed them was two hundred years in the future.
But what about Spock? Kirk knew that his half-Vulcan friend was more emotional than he used to let on, and had even attempted to show his human half now that they were on an Earth that had never met a Vulcan. Even so, Spock kept to himself much of the time, and meditated every day. He never admitted to having an emotion. And Kirk knew how squeamish Spock was about talking last time he'd gone through Pon Farr. Kirk had been avoiding Spock, he realized, out of fear. What if Spock was disgusted? Would Spock even acknowledge what they had done? Could they still be friends? Or even, maybe, friends with benefits?
****
McCoy surveyed the living room with dismay. Scotty was asleep on the floor, half buried under a heap of rumpled clothes and unwashed blankets. There was an empty spot where the couch had been, outlined by the newer-looking carpet that had been underneath the couch and therefore protected from the whirlwind that was Scotty. There were still bits of cushion fluff scattered about the edges of the empty spot; apparently no one had bothered to vacuum. Beer cans and empty whiskey bottles occupied most of the surfaces. Even though Scotty had fallen asleep hours ago, the TV was still blaring some horrible infomercial message about weight loss. McCoy picked his way through the debris and switched it off, taking pleasure in the sudden silence.
It was barely dawn, bedtime for night-shift workers like himself. He grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and looked up to a sleepy-eyed Kirk who had just padded into the room.
"Mornin' Bones." Kirk mumbled as he rubbed his eyes.
"Hi Jim. You're up early." McCoy gave him a once-over, old habit from his days as CMO in charge of his captain's health. Kirk looked like hell.
"Couldn't sleep." Kirk slumped into a chair at the table.
"Oh?" McCoy hoped he could catch Kirk off-guard enough to get him to open up.
Alas, Kirk eyed McCoy suspiciously.
"I see what you're doing Bones, and I don't like it."
McCoy gave his best impression of innocence, but Kirk did not look particularly impressed. McCoy sighed. Maybe it was best to just tell Jim that he was worried.
"Jim, I know you've been getting up and leaving early every day this week, not coming home until everyone else is gone or asleep. You look like hell. And the way you freaked out on Scotty last week was--"
"--Yeah, yeah. I KNOW. Look, I'll get another couch--"
"--No, Jim. You really don't know, and I think that's why you're acting so weird. Why don't you just talk to Spock? See how he feels? You guys can't keep pretending that nothing happened."
"Damn you Bones. This is all your fault to begin with. You made me go in there. Why don't you just mind your own goddamn business for once?" In his irritation, Kirk absentmindedly kicked the chair he was sitting in. It was just a cheap wooden chair and when he kicked it, one of the leg supports fell out. McCoy rolled his eyes.
"Why can't you to just talk to each other?"
"Why can't you just shut up for once?" Kirk looked dangerous.
McCoy opened his mouth to reply but down the hall a door opened and soon Spock came into the kitchen. Kirk practically did a double take, and then mumbled a terse good morning and removed himself to the bathroom. McCoy watched the Vulcan compose himself, obviously disturbed by what he had surely overheard with his Vulcan ears. McCoy pitied Spock.
It was the emotion he had most often been associating with Spock lately, besides the usual irritation. McCoy couldn't imagine having Jim as a lover, or even a room-mate. Sharing a house could be bad enough. But he was sure that Spock still loved Jim and wanted him in that way, pon farr or not. McCoy wasn't all that ignorant about Vulcans; they were capable of feeling emotion any damn time of the year. But this was going all wrong. Now they were both closed up tighter than Aldebran Shell-mouths. McCoy wasn't even sure they had acknowledged their feelings to themselves. What a shame. He had been sure that his and Uhura's plan was flawless. He had seen the bond of love between those two before pon farr had even happened, and it had seemed to be only a matter of time before they did something about it. Jim and Spock were made for each other, they had to be. And if they weren't, they would both drive the rest of the household mad.
****
Later that day, Bones came into the kitchen just in time to watch Scotty try to sit down at the table in the chair with the missing support. There was a cracking sound, a surprised "Aye!" a thump, and then Scotty was on the floor. The poor abused chair lay beside him in pieces; apparently it had given up the ghost. Bones helped Scotty back up, while the Scotsman tried to cover his embarrassment.
"I dinna see that comin'."
"I did," McCoy sighed.
"Perhaps it's high time we got some new chairs." Scott looked disdainfully at the wreck of wood on the kitchen floor.
"Or maybe some new housemates, Scotty." He summarized Kirk’s earlier outburst for Scotty, who, at the end, nodded and said, "Aye, perhaps we should."
Just then, Uhura came in, trying hard not to smile. Her arms were behind her back.
“I brought you guys a little surprise.” She chuckled. “A very little surprise.” She brought her arms around and the two men watched with disbelieving eyes as a grey kitten leapt from Uhura's arms onto the kitchen floor.
"Meet my new friend Texas, boys." Uhura grinned, waiting for their approval.
McCoy watched the tiny furball padding cautiously across the kitchen floor, sniffing the ruins of the chair. It looked up at him with a “mrao?“ and McCoy's heart melted. It was a damn cute animal.
"Well, speaking of new housemates..."
McCoy and Uhura chatted while the kitten finished exploring the house. It was very brave for a kitten; it seemed to take to its new surroundings immediately. Uhura found a place by the door for a food dish and a litter box, which she promised from the bottom of her heart to keep clean without anyone else's assistance.
"Texas?"
"It's hard to tell what sex they are when they're so little, so I thought I'd pick a gender-neutral name. I hope you guys like her...or him...I mean, it."
"It's adorable. I had a cat named Moonshine before I lost my mind and joined the service. I love cats." He bent down to start cleaning up the pieces of wood still littering the kitchen floor.
"What happened to the chair, Leonard?"
McCoy again related the story from that morning. Uhura was incredulous.
"What is wrong with him? They still aren't talking?"
"No. I think it's actually getting worse."
"I can't believe it. Those two..." Uhura shook her head.
"I know. Couple a' cowards if you ask me," McCoy sighed with exasperation.
"Leonard, honey, all men are cowards when it comes to sharing their feelings." He gave her a trying look. She sighed. "Okay, except you."
"That's better. Now, I suppose you're right. But jeez..."
"I know," she agreed.
"Well, I'm obviously not the person for the job of showing them how stupid they're being. Jim won't even talk to me now."
"Damn. Maybe we should back off and see if they work it out on their own. We can always intervene again if things get out of hand."
"More out of hand than this?"
"Let's pray it doesn't come to that. We're running out of furniture."
****
As people came back to the house, Uhura introduced them to the cat. Texas sniffed and then ignored everyone except Scotty, to whom she seemed to take an immediate liking. Scotty was happy to have--finally--a housemate who understood the things that he liked: sleeping, eating, and especially watching TV, which the cat seemed appreciate too, oddly enough. Uhura approved of the partnership, but drew the line when Scotty tried to offer his new friend some beer. Texas also seemed to like Spock at first, but when her invitations to be petted were ignored, Texas returned to her first favorite, Scotty. Uhura worriedly watched Spock, whom she had never known to resist affection from furry animals. Even the disastrous tribbles had evoked more of a reaction, and Texas was not without her charm. Looking at Spock, she saw a man, or rather, a Vulcan, who looked utterly defeated. His normally upright posture had slumped, and he looked lonelier than she had ever seen him. Her heart went out to him and she prayed fervently to Aphrodite or the Virgin Mary or any other being that might be listening that her lovelorn friends would come to their senses and talk to each other.
Spock however, had already come to a decision. Jim was obviously not ready to discuss what had happened, and Spock did not want to push him. He knew that Jim was nervous in his presence and that Jim wasn't sleeping very well either. He also knew that it was all his fault for letting himself give in to Jim's offer of relief. He reasoned that since he was at fault for Jim's suffering, it should be his punishment to right the situation. And punishment it would be. Earlier that day, he caught Chekov on his way out and asked him if he might room with him instead of Jim for awhile. Chekov looked shocked, but warily agreed, on the condition that Spock not touch his things. So Spock would talk to Jim, but only long enough to inform him of the impending move. He would not risk injuring Kirk further by forcing the human to acknowledge Spock’s feelings, which he obviously did not return.
It was enough to ruin the emotional control even of a high priest of Gol, let alone of a half-human, forsworn child of Sarek such as himself. Alas, Spock was still scheduled for the evening shift at "Blue Moon Market" and had no time to grieve what looked to be the end of his friendship with Jim. He only made it through the shift with the strength of his human half, the strength of denial, before he finally made it home, sank into bed and let himself cry. He had meant to tell Jim that night, but the human was still not home at one thirty, and Spock decided he could put it off for one more day, since he still had to work the morning shift the next day and needed what rest he could get.
****
From his hiding place in the bathroom where he had locked himself in for a long mid-day soak, Kirk heard the shut door that signified Spock's return from work. The bathtub was one of the few things about the apartment that was decent. It was one of those deep, old clawfoot tubs that have separate hot and cold faucets. It was stained and chipped, but still luxurious. It fit in awkwardly with the rest of the bathroom, which was a mishmash of flaking yellow paint, white tiling, blue trim, and a brand new shell-pink toilet (installed right before they moved in, according to the land lady). Everyone in the house, with the exception of Spock, who was a little skittish about water, loved the tub. A few minutes after Spock's arrival, Kirk heard a knock on the door.
"I'll be out soon, hold on!" He called from the tub. Spock's deep rumbling voice came through the door in response.
"That will not be necessary. I would like to talk if you have time later."
Kirk thought about it for a minute, then pulled the curtain closed around him.
"You can come in and talk now, if you want."
There was hesitation behind the door.
"I would not like to intrude."
"C'mon, Spock. I don't care. I have the shower curtain. Just come in." It's not like you've never seen me naked, Kirk thought wryly. The door opened slowly. Spock stepped into the room, and stood, tall and uncomfortable, hands behind his back.
"It can wait, Jim. I wished to discuss something of a personal nature, and I would not like to intrude on your solitude." He started backing towards the door. Kirk rolled his eyes and peered around the shower curtain. Of a personal nature? Kirk thought. Spock had not given any indication that he wanted to talk since his pon farr. He was worried, but also painfully curious, and he wouldn’t be able to relax now that he knew Spock had something to say to him. Might as well just do it now.
"Oh, for god's sake. Spock, I don't need solitude. Just come on and sit down. I'll keep the curtain pulled a little so we can see each other." Spock looked back at the door as if he might bolt, but then he sighed, put the cover down, and sat on the toilet. Kirk looked at him, and could have sworn that the Vulcan had a sheen of sweat on his face, as if he were nervous. The sight of a sweat-shiny Vulcan brought up certain memories of the recent past that caused him to blush, and he damned himself for being so hormonal. He mentally slapped himself to make the thought go away, and looked up at his companion. "So, what's on your mind, Spock?"
The Vulcan cleared his throat and began, quietly.
"I am aware of emotional difficulties between us caused by my recent....condition."
"Oh." It was Kirk's turn to look nervous. What was Spock going to say?
"I just want you to know that Chekov has agreed to share his room with me if you should desire more space between us."
There was a long pause before Kirk could remember how to make sentences.
"You what?"
"I said I--"
"--No! I know what you said. Jesus, Spock." Kirk swallowed. "You'd rather share a room with Chekov?" It was a pretty big insult, considering the condition of Chekov's room. Kirk felt like crying. "I didn't know I was so repugnant to you."
"That is not what I meant," Spock contradicted quickly. "I said I would be willing to move if you wished it. I simply do not want my...my feelings towards you to make you uncomfortable, as I believe they already have."
Well if it was possible to die from being flabbergasted, Kirk surely would have done so right there. As it was, he just shook his head and stared across the tub at his toes, trying to make sure Spock had actually implied what he thought he had implied. Finally, he decided that he had, and Kirk sat bolt upright, splashing a little water over the sides of the tub.
"Spock, you big, dumb Vulcan!"
"Jim, please, I see no need--"
"Dammit, shut up. You're not the only one here with...with feelings!" He looked Spock full on, feeling vulnerable. "You're my best friend and I...." He fell silent, blushing.
"You what, Jim?"
"Dammit, I love you, Spock." He hadn't really meant to say that much. "Sorry."
"Why should you apologize?"
"I don't know." Kirk mumbled. "I thought that you would reject any advances I made outside of....you know, so I didn't try."
"I see." Spock fell silent for a minute, long enough for Kirk to worry that he had read too much into Spock's admission of feelings and that he was now formulating an appropriate rejection. Finally he could no longer take the continued silence and opened his mouth to make up an excuse of sorts, but Spock interrupted before he could start.
"Jim, I did not expect you to feel this way. Are you sure it is not simply confusion brought on by what we have recently shared?"
Kirk sighed. He could use this chance to take back his admission before he embarrassed himself even more, or he could forge ahead and admit to the Vulcan that he was balls-over-brains in love with him. He thought: Aw what the hell. Could it really get any worse? Yes, it could. He shifted uncomfortably. I really hope it's not about to.
"Spock, look at me here. I feel naked," he looked down at himself, "in more ways than one. You don't have to do anything about it, but I don't see what good would come of me lying to you now. I've had time to think about it, you know."
"And?"
"Oh man, do I really have to spell it out? I never knew you were so damn literal-minded. Fine, have it your way. I love you, you damned elf. I enjoyed what we shared very much, and as long as I don't have to think of you as 'my Vulcan science officer,' I want to keep sharing it, um, very much. Is that enough for you?" Kirk waited for Spock to answer.
"A 'damned elf' Jim?" Spock gave him an odd look.
"Spock--"
"--Jim, never mind. I," Spock sighed, clearly nonplussed. Jim vacillated between fear and hope. "I, erhm, I love you too, Jim. I would also see the continuation of what we started as desirable." Spock was sitting straight as a pole and spoke formally, quite obviously a nervous wreck. Jim cracked a smile. It was always funny to see the Vulcan so uncomfortable, especially when it was to their mutual benefit. Then Spock saw the smile and ascertained its origin. "You are, however, incorrigible. I hope you know that, Jim." That took care of the smile. But then a brighter one appeared in its place.
"Well, damn. I'm sure glad we've that in the open. Why didn‘t we talk about this sooner?" Kirk looked at the Vulcan and then down at his hands. "What the hell?"
"What is it Jim?" Spock leaned over, concerned.
"I'm turning into a prune!" True enough, Jim's hands were wrinkled and sick-looking from sitting in the water for so long. Spock only raised an eyebrow in response, as if this validated his distrust of water. "C'mere, Spock. I have a surprise for you."
Spock looked dubious, but came over to the tub and waited for Kirk. Quickly, Kirk took Spock's face in his wrinkly hands and pulled him into a kiss. Surprised, the Vulcan let himself be pulled forward until he sat on the rim of the tub. They were still kissing and Kirk had just wrapped his arms around Spock's waist when the door opened unexpectedly and a surprised and horrified Bones let out a most un-masculine shriek. In the confusion, Spock lost his balance and Kirk tightened his grip, causing Spock to fall into the tub with him. Water splashed out all over the floor, and Bones recovered his wits enough to apologize and retreat, quickly shutting the door behind him.
It took a few seconds of shock before Kirk realized that there was a wet Vulcan in his lap, fully clothed, and burst out laughing. Spock did not look nearly so amused, but he did not remove himself from Jim's lap, either.
"You're cute when you're wet," Kirk teased when he had regained his composure.
"I could say the same of you, Jim." Spock looked like he was starting to get comfortable. Kirk snorted, trying to keep himself from laughing again. Spock was a sight. It was nice for things to feel comfortable between them again.
"Well, what do you say, Spock--since you're already in here with me....do you want to share the bath?" Spock raised an eyebrow, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.
"Logical."
"As always." Kirk grinned and let Spock up to disrobe before rejoining him in the tub. Maybe Spock would even start to like the water. One could hope.
Outside, Bones had fully recovered. He tentatively passed by the door to the bathroom on his way to the kitchen and heard the unmistakable sounds of two men sharing a tub. In a moment of good humour he decided to spare others a possible repeat of his own embarrassing intrusion. A few industrious minutes later, a sign written in purple marker was taped onto the outside of the bathroom door: "Do NOT Disturb." Work finished, Bones proudly went to the kitchen to pour himself a drink.
****
Two days later, just before the anniversary of the fateful house meeting of two weeks ago, a new couch suddenly appeared. It was big and soft and immediately became the sole property of Texas and Scotty. Kirk was relieved to have the evidence of his stupidity filled in and forgotten, and pleased that the new couch was met with approval. There was an almost festive atmosphere in the house. For once, everyone was home at the same time, and instead of sullenly holing up in their respective bedrooms, everyone curled up in the living room with drinks to watch a TV movie about alien invasion. Everyone giggled at the short, bug-eyed green “aliens” that looked much like the puppet used by Ambassador Balok in their first meeting, when Kirk had invented the “Corbomite” device. A few naughtier jokes were aimed at Spock, containing references to “little green men.” Texas picked her way among the housemates, being accosted along the way by increasingly drunken cuddlers as the night went on. Finally she settled down on the couch in the lap of Scotty, who was also drunk but thankfully sedate. He had a big, squishy lap which was more comfortable than any of the others. Texas purred and looked up adoringly at Scotty, who returned the adoring look. Uhura almost died, it was so cute.
Kirk and Spock sat together for most of the night, sharing a blanket and a bottle of wine. They looked happy, and Uhura and McCoy exhanced knowing glances whenever they saw the two boys' heads together in private conversation. They were obviously still shy with each other, but that just made it all the more endearing to their housemates. It was also nice to think that peace might finally return to their home. Eventually Spock excused himself to the bathroom and McCoy saw his chance to patch things up with Kirk. He scooted up next to Kirk with a grin.
"So I see you two have worked things out. Eh, Jim?" Bones nudged him in the ribs.
"Shut up, Bones. You're still on probation, and Uhura too." Kirk’s tone was serious, but there was a slight smile on his lips.
McCoy hmphed.
"No good deed goes unpunished, I suppose." They sat in silence a while, before Kirk decided to change the subject.
"Hey Bones, did you ever get any more of that 'medical marijuana?'"
McCoy saw his ticket back into the good graces of his former captain and smiled.
"It just so happens I did."
The End
