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wren-of-the-woods · 10 months ago

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On Doomsdays and Devotion

After the Enterprise’s most recent brush with death, Jim notices that Spock is sticking closer to him than usual. The conversation that ensues is unexpectedly impactful. This is 2.5k of pre-Spirk feels, rated G. On AO3 here!

Jim was fairly certain that Spock had been following him.

It did not happen all the time. It did not disrupt either of their duties. In fact, it had taken him a few days to convince himself that he was not imagining it, especially since he was still distracted by dealing with the fallout of their most recent incident with a planet-killing weapon. Still, once he started paying attention, the fact remained: when Spock would normally have been off on his own doing science experiments or reports or whatever else Spock did when he was away from Jim, he was, instead, quietly by Jim’s side.

Spock sat next to Jim at meals. He accompanied him in the gym. He sat in the same room as Jim when they were doing reports. Even when they were not together, Spock often found reasons to pass Jim in the corridor, speak to him briefly, or grab something from whatever room Jim was in on his way from task to task.

Jim did not mind this. In fact, he probably should have been slightly worried about just how little Spock’s frequent presence bothered him, but he could not quite bring himself to analyze that part of his feelings too deeply. Suffice to say that he was not irritated by the shift in his first officer’s behavior. He was, however, slightly concerned.

At one point, he attempted to bring it up with the Vulcan in question.

“Mister Spock,” he said, smiling, “Is there something you would like to discuss with me?”

Spock blinked at him. If it were anyone else, Jim would almost have said he looks sheepish.

“No, captain.”

Jim bit back a sigh. He did not expect Spock to simply tell him whatever was going on, not after so many days of silence, but it still would have been nice.

“Very well,” said Jim, and the conversation was forgotten. Jim almost began to ignore the unusual occurrence entirely.

Then, one night, well over a standard week after the incident with their most recent planet-killer, Jim suddenly found that he could no longer hold himself together.

He was off duty, which was fortunate, but that was just about the only thing that felt fortunate about the situation. The events of their most recent adventure — the death of his friend, the possibility and reality of such destruction, how close he had come to his own death — had finally caught up to him, and all he could do was hightail it to his quarters and hope he made it before his crew has to witness their captain having a minor meltdown. He ended up hiding in his room for a good portion of the evening, a few hours which he would rather not talk about, before eventually deciding he had pulled himself together enough to justify going out in search of some food.

After everything, it really should not have been a surprise that Spock was there when he emerged.

His first officer was attempting to look nonchalant, but given that there was very little reason for his presence in this corridor at this time and it was highly unlikely that he simply happened to be here at the moment Jim left his room, Jim thought he was doing a rather poor job of it. He looked distinctly unsurprised by Jim’s presence.

“Mister Spock,” he said, trying to act casual and not as though he had spent the last few hours working through a series of extremely strong emotions. “Is something wrong?”

Spock looked at Jim consideringly for a moment. Jim resisted the urge to fidget under his gaze.

“The ship is in standard working order, captain,” Spock said.

“That isn’t a no.”

“Correct. You are experiencing emotional distress.”

Jim winced a little. “That obvious, huh?”

“To an average member of the crew, likely not. I, however, can make out eleven separate physiological and psychological signs that—”

Jim raised a hand to cut him off. “Very well, Mister Spock, I understand. You’re right.” He quirked a small smile. “Even the great Captain Kirk can’t see his friend die without experiencing any unpleasantness, I’m afraid.”

“You also came close to death, captain.”

Jim blinked. “Yes, that too, I suppose.”

Spock’s lips thinned almost imperceptibly, but he said nothing. For a moment, they stood there in rather awkward silence.

“Well,” said Jim eventually, “I was going to get some food. Would you like to accompany me?”

“I would find that acceptable, captain.”

Spock fell easily into step beside him as they made their way towards the mess hall. They were silent as Jim got some food and sat down with his plate. Spock sat across from him, though he had not taken any food from the replicators. The room was empty due to the late hour and the lights were dimmed. In the silence, Spock’s presence seemed to have more significance than really made sense.

Jim ate in silence for several long moments. Spock considered him from across the table. Eventually, to Jim’s surprise, it was Spock who broke the silence.

“Would you like to speak about the subject of your distress?” asked Spock.

Jim paused. His instinct was to refuse, to focus on the mission instead of his distraction and only talk about it later, perhaps in his logs or on shore leave with Bones and copious amounts of alcohol. He usually did his best to keep Spock from having to deal with any more of his human emotions than is necessary. But Spock was asking, now, and though the Vulcan would deny it if he ever dared to make the claim, Jim could tell that he was worried. He could not bring himself to refuse his friend’s offer.

“It… troubles me, when I can’t save someone.”

Spock’s brows furrowed. “You were not on the ship at the time of Decker’s departure. It was not your responsibility to save him, nor was it possible for you to do so.”

Jim managed a small, sad smile. “I know. That doesn’t mean it’s easy to remember.”

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement, and they returned to the silence in which the meal had begun. Jim finished his food, pushed his plate aside, and looked at Spock consideringly. Spock returned his gaze, even and unflinching.

“There’s something on your mind, Mr Spock. Care to share?”

Spock considered him for a moment. When he spoke, it was with deliberation.

“It concerns me, captain, that you give such little importance to your own near demise.”

Jim blinked.

“I had no desire to die,” he said.

“And yet you came perilously close to doing so.”

“It was the best way to save the ship.”

“Perhaps, sir, but you must take into account the way your death would have affected the ship and its crew. Productivity would have decreased at a significant rate and the emotional fallout would have affected many of the crew for at least several years.”

Jim frowned. “A grieving crew is better than a dead crew. I wouldn’t be much of a captain if I couldn’t value my ship above myself.”

“You may be correct, captain. However, I would still strongly advise you to utilize more caution in the future.”

Jim’s brows furrowed. “Where is this coming from, Spock? This isn’t the first time I’ve almost died.”

Spock hesitated. Jim noticed, for the first time, a shadow of vulnerability hidden bleeding through the edges of Spock’s mask of Vulcan control. He felt his expression soften.

“Spock,” he said gently, “Why have you been following me?”

Spock looked down at his hands where they were calmly clasped together, resting on the table. “It is illogical, captain.”

“You? Illogical? Somehow I doubt that.”

“Even the best of us have our flaws.”

Despite the strange tension in the air between them, Jim could not help but chuckle at that.

“Very true.” Then, when a moment of silence went by without Spock responding, he prompted, “Well?”

Still looking at his hands, Spock paused for a moment before speaking. “I admit that I would have found it most disagreeable if you had lost your life in that mission.”

“I wouldn’t have exactly been pleased with it either.”

Spock continued as though Jim had not spoken. “Were you to perish, the ship would feel your absence most keenly.”

Jim considered him for a long moment before, throwing caution to the winds, he spoke. “And you? Would you feel it?”

For the first time in several moments, Spock finally looked up and met Jim’s eyes. “I admit that I would, captain.”

Jim swallowed. If Spock were human, Jim would have reached across the table to take his hand, but as it was, he contented himself with holding his earnest gaze.

“I’m sorry I concerned you.”

“Thank you,” said Spock. “Though I admit that I appreciate it more if you refrained from doing so again in the future.”

“You know I can’t promise that, Spock.”

Spock’s brow furrowed slightly. “I am aware, captain. However, that does not mean I am pleased by this fact.”

Jim smiled a little, gentle and a bit sad. “I thought Vulcans were not capable of displeasure.”

Spock looked Jim in the eye, tilting his head slightly. “When it comes to you, I find a great many capable of a great many things.”

Jim opened his mouth. He closed it again.

“I see,” he said, rather lamely.

Spock frowned. “Captain, I do not think you realize the importance of this matter.”

“It’s my life. I’d say I have a pretty good sense of how important it is.”

“And yet you are acting as though you do not realize how significant it is to those around you.”

“A captain’s life is lived in service of his ship and his crew”

“The importance of your existence is not found solely in your captaincy, Jim.”

Jim gave Spock a long, considering look. “Are you trying to tell me something, Spock?”

“It is also found, among other things, in your status as a friend.”

Jim was silent, digesting this. Spock looked at him for a long moment, then, unprompted but with uncharacteristically visible hesitance, spoke again.

“I have been maintaining a proximity to you that is closer than average for the last eight point three days because, unreasonable and improper as it may be, I have found your presence an illogically reassuring reminder that you did not, in fact, perish during our last mission.”

“Oh,” said Jim softly.

This time, he was unable to keep himself from reaching out to place a hand on Spock’s sleeve, just above the wrist. Spock looked down at the place where their skin didn’t quite touch, seeming to consider it, but did not protest the contact. Jim took this as permission to leave his hand where it is.

“I’m sorry to have caused you pain,” he said. It was a testament to the weight of the conversation that Spock only frowned slightly at this, not bothering to protest the implications of emotion in Jim’s statement. “I’m safe now. I promise I had no intention of letting the universe get rid of me this easily.”

Jim paused for a moment, thinking, then forged ahead with all the boldness of the man who had recently faced death without flinching.

“You know I had to do it, though,” he said.

Spock’s frown deepened slightly. “The machine’s destruction was logically necessary for the sake of the galaxy. However, the specific method chosen was perhaps not—”

Jim held up a hand to stop him. “I’m aware of your thoughts on my methods. I’m talking about my motivation.”

Spock’s frown grew less displeased and more considering. “In that case, please elaborate.”

Jim couldn’t help a small, fond smile at Spock’s words. “I knew it had to be destroyed for the sake of the galaxy, but that wasn’t really what I was thinking about when I did it.” His smile faded into seriousness as he spoke. He maintained eye contact with Spock. “I was thinking about my crew. About how my friends— my family would be destroyed if I did not act.” He gently squeezed Spock’s forearm where his hand still rested on his sleeve. “I was thinking about you.”

Spock was silent. Jim studied his face, trying to parse the emotions he could almost feel hiding behind Spock’s Vulcan control. There was surprise, he thought, and perhaps confusion, but also something deeper, perhaps more vulnerable or more tender. He could not make it out.

Jim found that he could not let this conversation stagnate in silence, not without knowing for certain that Spock understood him.

“So,” he said, “I hope you realize that this feeling goes both ways.”

Spock’s brows furrowed just slightly. “Clarify.”

“I… value your presence. Very highly. I, um,” Jim paused, took a deep breath, then forged on quickly. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.” He swallowed. “Please don’t make me find out.”

Spock paused. He considered Jim for a long moment. For some reason, Jim grew increasingly nervous under his scrutiny.

“I am gratified to know that you understand the sentiment,” Spock said eventually. “I will endeavor to act in the interest of self-preservation.”

Jim relaxed a little, letting a smile slip onto his face. “That’s all I can ask for. Thank you.”

“And you will endeavor to do the same?”

Jim lifted his hand from Spock’s arm and held it out to shake. “It’s a deal.”

Too late, he remembered the vast differences between the cultural norms of humans and Vulcans when it came to touch and fingers in particular. He made to withdraw his hand, slightly sheepish.

Before he could move and without breaking eye contact, Spock reached forward and took his hand.

Jim felt a spark of warmth, almost a tingling sensation, travel up his arm and down his spine at the touch. Spock’s hand was dry and very warm. His gaze was serious, earnest in a way Jim rarely saw from him. Jim found that he could not look away.

“A deal,” Spock repeated, his voice soft and low. Jim found himself fighting back a shiver.

Before Jim could pull himself together and return to his senses long enough to speak, Spock released his hand and stood. Jim looked up at him, blinking dumbly, as Spock nodded at him.

“This conversation has been most profitable, captain. Thank you for your time.”

“It— uh, it was my pleasure.” Jim winced internally, abruptly glad the room was empty but for the two of them. He doubted his suave reputation would survive intact otherwise.

Jim could have sworn he saw Spock smirk at him as he turned to go. He found himself smiling softly in return as he watched Spock leave.

When Jim returned to his quarters, he found that he felt much better than he had when he left them last. The emotional toll of the mission was not completely lifted, of course, but the reminder that he had his first officer at his side made it feel easier to bear. The thought of Spock’s concern for his well-being made him made him feel oddly warm.

And, if it was the memory of Spock’s hand on his — of the warmth of his touch, the thinly veiled feeling in his eyes, the emotions that sparked in Jim’s own chest at the contact, and the promise of, maybe, someday, something more — that eventually lulled him to sleep with a smile on his face, that was no one’s business but his own.

#star trek tos #spirk #kirk x spock #james t kirk #spock #star trek #wren writes #*waves shyly* hello star trek fandom!#this took FOREVER because writing has been really slow lately but i finally came up with a title i'm happy with so here you go :D #there should be more fic for both witcher and star trek on its way soon! <3 #also first fic of 2024 let's go!!!!#man it's been ages since i posted a new fic that wasn't a collaboration

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