#tos fan fiction

[indeedcaptain]

Regulatory Relations, chapter 14: The Admirals

Hello everyone!! :) <3

Some notes on this chapter:

I am accepting as fact that Christopher Pike was disabled in a warp core accident and shooting the rest of that canon, the menagerie included, out the airlock. 

I’m using the actor for April from Strange New Worlds to describe April in this fic even though this is not an SNW fic. 

This chapter had me googling shit like “wheat bacteria. Wheat fungal infection. Causes of wheat fungal infection.” I was five citations deep into the National Library of Medicine. I learned what mycotoxicosis was. If the science is wrong, please forgive me. My mother (me) was an English major and my father (also me) did poorly in freshman chem in college. 

Ty ripley for fact-checking me. I got lied to by the hollywood reporter

Also posted on my AO3 here :)

Enjoy! Smooches ahead!!

☆☆☆

When Kirk awoke, mind rising from a deep, dreamless sleep as swiftly as a bubble through water, his face was pressed into something warm and firm, something that rose and fell rhythmically under his cheek. His hand rested over Spock’s stomach, the beat of his heart fluttering beneath his palm, and Spock’s hand rested on his hip, his arm curled around Kirk’s back, keeping him close.

Kirk relaxed against him, comfortable, warm, and safe. Even after reliving the worst period of his life, after the rollercoaster of a day that their honeymoon had been, no nightmare had disturbed him. So much had changed over just twenty-four hours: he had gone from mourning the loss of his friendships to showing his first officer (his husband, his mind reminded him) everything that he had promised never to share. 

And somewhere in between those two extremes, Spock had taken him out on the best date he’d ever had. The natural history museum, the Best of the Midwest, and Spock bussing his tray for him swam in his brain with the abandoned treehouse on Tarsus, the night they spent in the governor’s house, and Mr. Park’s boots emerging from behind his desk. But rather than Tarsus tainting his recollections of Starbase 27, the memory of their shared time leached away some of the pain of remembrance.

He had removed the boundary between them, and let Spock in. He had shown Spock what he had seen and done on Tarsus. Spock had held his hand, and held him close, and stayed the night. And through all that, their connection had not changed: not Spock’s surety, not their gentle banter and Spock’s quick wit, not how he looked for Spock first in any room he entered. For better and for worse did not come with caveats, he thought, and he opened his eyes.

He lifted his head to the semi-darkness, the red glare of his alarm clock, and Spock, already awake, turning his head to look down at him. His hair clung to the pillowcase as he moved. Kirk’s breath caught in his throat: the familiar angles of Spock’s face had been rendered unfamiliar by proximity, and all the more beautiful for it. Spock’s eyes shone liquid in the dim light, only the sharpest lines of him visible, the rest of him cast in shadow. The silence of the room was viscous in the air. 

Kirk knew that they weren’t done with Tarsus. But Tarsus could wait.

“Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, and his voice was still rough with sleep. “Can I have a do-over?” He pushed himself up further onto his elbow. Spock blinked at him, his arm adjusting to Kirk’s movement without relinquishing his grip. There were only inches between their faces, but Spock did not shift away.

“Of what, captain?” Kirk could feel the rumble of Spock’s voice in his chest through their contact.

“Two mornings ago,” Kirk said. He swallowed. “When you said…” Ashamed, despite Spock’s assurances, of how he had behaved, he pressed his palm down where it rested on Spock’s ribs and hoped that he would understand. He heard Spock exhale through his nose. Spock’s eyes searched his face, and Kirk held his gaze. He would let Spock see him. He was done hiding. 

“I have learned this week that you like when I touch you,” Spock said, quiet in the still of the morning. His hand was a solid pressure against Kirk’s hip, fingers flexing as he spoke. “I have learned that I do too.” 

“I do like it,” Kirk said, almost in a whisper. “At first I was afraid that you would realize how much I liked it, and I would make you uncomfortable. But then…” He lifted his hand and ran one gentle fingertip down the column of Spock’s neck, the exposed line of his collarbone. He was a little shocked at his own daring, but Spock did not flinch away. 

“After I understood my… sentiment towards you, and we crossed more lines, I was afraid that, if you learned what I had been hiding, that you would think less of me. This starship runs as it does because of how we work together.” The words were spilling out of him now, and he needed Spock to understand. “I couldn’t risk losing your trust, if you thought that I was unfit to lead. And I wanted to spare you from seeing what I had seen, if you ever wanted to...” Kirk gestured next to his head, along his psi-points. Spock’s hand came up and circled Kirk’s wrist, pulling it back to rest on his chest. 

“Captain,” Spock said. “Jim. Knowing how your experiences affect you changes nothing about my opinions on your actions, or my trust in your leadership.” He half-raised one eyebrow as he considered Kirk’s hand in his grasp. “You may find that I understand better than most what it is to feel, and feel deeply, and yet still act as though nothing is felt at all.” Kirk closed his eyes, pressing his hand down against Spock’s chest, feeling his heartbeat under his palm.

“I thought that I was protecting you,” Kirk admitted. “I thought that by keeping the truth from you, I could prevent you from being hurt by it.” He flipped his hand around in Spock’s grip to take his hand in his, and opened his eyes. “And instead I hurt you. I’m sorry for that.”

“As I had surmised, captain, and it is forgiven,” Spock said. “But for future reference, I would prefer the truth, no matter how painful, to a comfortable lie.”

“Duly noted, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, and looked from their intertwined hands to Spock’s face. He couldn’t discern what Spock was thinking in the half-light; he could only admire the lines of his face, the deep color of his eyes and hair contrasted against Kirk’s pillow. 

When Spock spoke again, his voice was reserved. “Now that I know the truth, how would you like to proceed?” And there it was: his opening. Kirk shifted forward, putting more of his weight against Spock’s chest, bringing their faces closer together. Spock turned to look fully at him. 

“You want me to touch you?” Kirk pulled his hand out of Spock’s grasp to bring it up to his face, running his thumb reverently against Spock’s cheekbone, feeling the delicate architecture of his pointed ear under his fingers. Spock’s hand tightened over his waist, and he nodded. 

When he met Spock’s eyes, something warm and electric sparked between them. “I’ve been thinking about this for days,” Kirk breathed, and he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Spock’s. No audience, no pressure of separation or performance, no secrets: the whole galaxy narrowed to him, and his first officer, and the years of history and trust between them. Their bodies pressed together from lips to chests to legs. Spock was deliciously warm. For a few seconds they lay unmoving, but Kirk remembered Spock’s hesitation during their first kiss, and he waited. 

Then Spock opened his mouth to Kirk, rolled towards him, and slid his hand beneath Kirk’s shirt. Kirk looped his arm over his shoulders and pulled Spock in closer, licking into his mouth. Spock’s hand roamed higher, pressing flat against his spine, fingertips digging into the muscle of his back. He pushed Kirk backwards as he braced himself on one arm, his tongue sliding into his mouth as his other hand came up to caress Kirk’s hair. He shivered as Spock’s thumb traced the curved edge of his ear. Kirk slid both hands under the hem of Spock’s sleep shirt, feeling the movement of his hips telegraphed through his spine, and the expanse of his back was warm. Kirk could feel the shifting of the muscles under his skin as he pressed Kirk down into the bed, and the weight of his thigh falling between Kirk’s lit a fire in his stomach. Kirk ground up against him and pulled Spock’s bottom lip between his teeth, and he heard Spock’s exhale catch in a groan in the back of his throat. God, he wanted to eat that sound. He wanted to hear it again immediately. He wanted to be the one to pull that noise out of Spock for the rest of both of their natural lives.

Next to the bed, his alarm clock blared. They both flinched. Kirk dropped his head down against the mattress, and Spock bowed his, pressing his forehead into Kirk’s shoulder with what might have been a sigh. Then he sat up, tapped the alarm off, and rolled back to face Kirk.

“Good morning,” Kirk said, and he grinned. Spock’s eyes softened. The shoulder of his shirt was slipping down, and his hair was mussed from its contact with the pillow and Kirk’s hands. He looked gentle, sleep-soft, lovely. 

“Good morning,” Spock said. He leaned back on one hand, looking down at Kirk where he still sprawled across the bed. “How are you?” 

“Better than last night, that’s certain,” Kirk said. He couldn’t get over the vision of Spock, sitting on his bed in his pajamas, lips gently swollen from kissing. His whole body buzzed. 

“I was concerned for you,” Spock said, and he studied Kirk. “And my concern remains. Captain, have you studied with any level of detail Starfleet’s official record of what occurred on Tarsus IV?” Well, he had hoped for more of a reprieve, but at least Spock let him sleep through the night and kiss him before he returned to the elephant in the room.

“No,” Kirk admitted. “I’ve avoided it entirely. My… Elise said it would only make things worse.”

“It remains highly redacted,” Spock said. “I was not able to use any of the privileged information in my regulation revision, as it would have nullified my efforts, but I had become curious. I acquired an unredacted version and read it.”

“Oh, you acquired one? Achieved that through entirely legal means too, I’m sure?” 

“It would have been illogical and unscientific to draw conclusions from incomplete information,” Spock said delicately. “But, regardless…” Then he hesitated, and Kirk pushed himself up. 

“I’m starting to think that my memories and the Starfleet record might have some inconsistencies,” Kirk said softly. 

“Inconsistencies is not the term I would use,” Spock said. His fingers clenched against the bed, crumpling the sheets, and he looked down.

“What would you call the difference, then?” Spock’s reticence was setting Kirk’s skin crawling. He crossed his legs so he could sit upright, and braced himself. 

“Treason,” Spock said softly. Kirk’s heart seized up. “You were the only witness to a crime against the Federation, but without the context necessary to understand it, and someone has exerted great effort to keep you from gaining that context.” 

“But there were other witnesses,” Kirk said. “There were five--- four other kids with me. At least one of them is in Starfleet now.” 

“I am not referring to the massacre, or the famine,” Spock said, and somehow his gaze grew heavier. “In your memories, you were alone when you saw the shuttle that took Kodos off of Tarsus IV.” 

“I was,” Kirk said. “I mean, he did terrible things, and he should have been brought to justice. But was all of this really just because I saw him escape?” There was something in Spock’s expression that made Kirk uneasy.

“Jim,” Spock said, and he wrapped his hand around Kirk’s wrist, and that more than anything solidified that something was wrong. “Kodos did not escape on his own. The individuals who took Kodos off-planet were not his guards.” 

“What do you mean?” Spock broke eye contact again, glancing briefly over his shoulder. Kirk’s palm grew cold and clammy. He felt his heartbeat tick up.

“I recognized their uniforms,” Spock said. “Kodos was extracted from Tarsus IV by operatives from Section 31.” 

White noise roared in Kirk’s ears. His vision blurred. “No,” he heard himself say, from very far away. Spock redoubled his grip on his wrist. It was his only anchor to the rest of the world. His awareness collapsed into a needle-thin tunnel, with only the vague bright dot of his quarters visible at the end of it. He thought Spock was saying something, but it was hard to hear him from all the way at the end of the tunnel and over the rushing in his ears. 

“Section 31 is a Starfleet office,” he said hollowly, when he could speak again. 

“Yes,” Spock said. 

“You’re saying that Starfleet pulled Kodos off Tarsus. And left us to die.” His preliminary shock was fading away. The crystal-clarity of the cold, unfeeling part of his brain slid down over him like a mask, and he let it take over with a vague sense of relief. 

“A branch of it, yes,” Spock said, and he watched Kirk closely. A detached part of Kirk wondered what Spock’s telepathy felt when he shut everything away like this.

“What else was missing or wrong from the report?” 

“The official cause for the crop failure and famine was a fungal infection--- Fusarium graminearum. But what you showed me did not look like Fusarium, and Fusarium typically grows in dampness and humidity, which is inconsistent with your memories of drought. That Kodos chose who would live and who would die in the massacre in the auditorium was known. But the causes of death for his chosen survivors were all listed as starvation or immolation, and some of the bodies that you saw in the town before the fire had not starved. And though it was not in the report, the medical treatment you experienced after your rescue did not follow standard protocol for starvation or malnutrition, nor the treatment for mycotoxicosis.”

“What do you mean?” Kirk extricated himself from Spock’s grip on his wrist, as gently as he could manage, and crossed to the closet. He needed something to do with himself; he could no longer sit still and absorb just how deeply things had been warped. He grabbed his trousers and tunic from the closet. 

“In your memories, you underwent dialysis as part of your treatment for an extensive duration,” Spock said, and he turned to watch Kirk. “Though it may have been necessary if you had ingested significant quantities of Fusarium and experienced alimentary toxic aleukia, neither the level of sustenance you were able to obtain on Tarsus nor the symptoms you demonstrated after rescue imply that this should have been the case.” 

“It sounds as though you have a hypothesis, Mr. Spock.” Kirk crossed back to the bathroom door, holding his uniform like a security blanket. 

“I do,” Spock allowed. “Is Doctor McCoy aware that you were on Tarsus IV?” 

“He is,” Kirk said. “Unfortunately. He has unredacted access to my medical records.” 

“Would you permit me to view them as well?” 

Kirk froze. “One second,” he said, and ducked into the bathroom as soon as the turbodoor slid open. It slid shut behind him, and he braced his hands on the counter. His medical records wouldn’t show Spock anything more graphic than he had already seen in Kirk’s memories. But his records included holos of himself immediately after, as well as the notes from both Dr. Johns and Elise about his behavior during recovery. He didn’t want Spock to have to see the evidence.

He bent down over the sink to wash his face, and the cold water helped to pull himself back into his body. Although his knee-jerk emotional response to Spock’s question had been a harsh and immediate ‘no,’ he could see the logic in the request. Because Spock had seen all his memories, he wouldn’t have to endure the panic and nausea that came with trying to actually talk about Tarsus. Though his relief at the idea made him feel somewhat like a coward, because Spock now knew as much as he did, Spock could be the one to answer Bones’s questions. Kirk pressed his hand to his chest and realized, as his numbness slowly melted away, that having a path forward--- seeking an answer to a question that wasn’t about his own misery--- gave him a momentum that kept him from drowning in panic. He wasn’t thrilled about the new information or about Spock seeing his records, but the anxiety was manageable. His head was above water. 

He pulled his uniform on, gave his hair a quick brush, and walked back into their quarters. Spock had also changed for the day in his absence, and stood at the bookshelves, adjusting something. When Kirk was halfway across the room, the object of Spock’s attention came into focus: he had unboxed the little crinoid machine and placed it delicately on an empty bit of shelf, next to a padd that Kirk thought he recognized as their wedding gift from Janice. Spock adjusted the tiny piece of machinery so gently in his large hands that Kirk’s heart skipped a beat, and seeing a gift he had given Spock next to their padd of holos made him feel distinctly domestic. It felt nice; a safe reprieve from the disturbing revelations of the morning.

“Are you moving in for good, Mr. Spock?” 

Spock spun, clasping his hands behind his back so quickly that the motion was a blur. He looked suddenly unsure of himself. “Captain, I---” 

“I think I would like it if you do,” Kirk said, and he came to stand next to the Vulcan, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “If that was something you wanted.” They both considered the undulation and writhing of the crinoid, the feathers flicking out into the air in a graceful, solitary dance.

“If you would have me, captain, I would like to stay.” 

“Good.” The answer settled his mind a little further. Kirk nodded decisively, and before he could lose his nerve, he said, “You can see my records, and then I need to hear your hypothesis.” Spock turned to look at him. “After we meet with the admirals. And I have a question for you first.” 

“Certainly, captain,” Spock said. 

“How did you recognize the uniforms?” 

Spock watched the movement of the crinoid for another few seconds before he said, “Have you ever heard the name Michael Burnham?” 

Kirk raised his eyebrows. “The mutineer? Of course. What the hell does she have to do with this?” 

“Did you know she was raised on Vulcan?” 

“Yes,” Kirk said slowly. “Did you… did you know her?” 

“She was my foster sister,” Spock said. Kirk’s mouth dropped open involuntarily.

“You’re joking.”

“I am not, captain,” Spock said. “I became unfortunately acquainted with Section 31 during one of her classified exploits.” 

Kirk gaped at him, mind reeling. He tried to reorient himself around this enormous piece of information. Spock had kept a Federation-sized secret from him for years, one that had Federation-wide repercussions, and likely had more, if he had been involved with any of Burnham’s other activities during her time on the Discovery. 

His first instinct was to be angry that Spock had kept this from him. But then something lighter, a little happier, a little truer, bubbled up from inside him. It was easy to forget sometimes that he was not the only person in the universe carrying ugly secrets. The reminder chipped away another piece of his mask, set him more firmly on his own two feet, in his body, on his ship. 

Spock watched him, shoulders pulled back tightly, hands clasped behind him. “Jim, I am sorry that I did not---” 

Kirk shoved him playfully sideways, and Spock, shocked, had the grace to pretend to be moved. “Don’t apologize. You keeping that secret makes us even. You were raised with Starfleet’s only mutineer?” 

“She was not a mutineer at the time,” Spock said, and the line of his shoulders loosened. “We ought to depart if we are to have breakfast before the start of alpha shift. The admirals will arrive in three point five hours.” 

“When it rains, it pours,” Kirk said, and smiled at the offended eyebrow raise that the expression earned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to see April have a meltdown in the ready room.”

“Do you intend to provoke him, captain?” They crossed to the door to the hallway, and as Kirk lifted his hand to open the door he suddenly remembered how he had felt yesterday morning, to enter the hallway and find no Spock waiting for him. It had only been twenty-four hours. Everything had changed. 

Instead of opening the door, he reached for Spock. He pulled him around in front of him, and pushed him backwards. His back hit the door with a gentle thud. 

“Maybe I do,” Kirk said, leaning forward into his space, and without hesitating Spock bent his head to meet him in a kiss. Spock’s arms came around him, pulling him tightly against him, as Kirk slid one hand behind his head to anchor them together. The feeling of Spock’s hair between his fingers, his hands against his back, his lips against his own--- he was never going to get used to it.

When they broke apart, Spock’s hair was in disarray, and Kirk smoothed it back down. “I do not recommend that we do that in front of the admiralty,” Spock said, but there was a flush high on his cheeks that betrayed his composure. 

“No?” Kirk made his voice as innocent as he could. “I thought that April could perhaps use a little more convincing.” 

“I am certain that the crew will vouch for the truth for us,” Spock said, before he gently smoothed the shoulders of Kirk’s tunic down. Kirk tapped the door pad and Spock stepped neatly backwards as the door opened. 

“I, for one, am curious to hear what they’ll share with April,” Kirk said. “I know about the hypotheses, and the betting pools, and the nurses’ log. Oh, and the Spock rule. But I bet there are others.”

“The human desire to turn everything into a competition or a gambling opportunity is fascinating, captain.” They walked down the hall, side by side, perfectly synchronized, and the cold that had seized him earlier released another piece of his heart. The back of Spock’s hand brushed his as they walked, and he leaned down to listen more closely when Kirk talked. Kirk let himself touch the small of Spock’s back for emphasis, and he couldn’t stop the comfortable warmth in his chest from shining out of his face. He grinned at his crew as they passed and saluted or smiled at him and Spock. When they saw him and Spock together, he knew they were just seeing an affectionate newlywed couple, fresh off of shore leave together. 

And wouldn’t you know it? For the first time since Kirk had proposed marriage, it was even true. 

☆☆☆

They entered the officers’ mess to find Bones and Uhura already eating breakfast. They both looked up as the doors slid open to admit them, and as they registered Kirk and Spock entering together, Kirk could see their pleased surprise. He lifted a hand in greeting, his own smile growing in response, before replicating breakfast and moving to join them. He had just sat down and set his plate on the table when he realized he’d forgotten coffee. “One second,” he said, and made to stand again, when a mug landed on the table in front of him, delivered by an elegant and long-fingered hand. 

He looked up as Spock sat next to him, setting his own plate and mug down. “Thank you,” he said, and Spock nodded before picking up his fork. Kirk looked across the table to see Uhura stifle a smile behind one hand and Bones roll his eyes before picking up a jam-soggy piece of toast. 

“How was your time on the starbase?” Uhura asked. 

“Wonderful,” Kirk said, at the same time that Spock said, “Adequate.” Bones snorted, but he had an evaluative look on his face, and his eyes were locked onto Kirk. With a slight wince, Kirk remembered the unfortunate context in which he had last seen him. He had the feeling he was going to owe Bones an emergency bottle of bourbon by the time the day was over.

“We saw a number of fascinating creatures that inhabit the planets of nearby systems,” Spock said, and Kirk dug into his breakfast as Uhura picked up the conversation. On his other side, he felt Bones nudge his calf with his shoe. Kirk looked at him. 

In the silent language of their long friendship, Bones asked with his eyebrows: You okay? 

A slight, begrudging frown and a short nod: Yes, actually. 

Narrowed eyes: Really? 

And then, before Kirk could stop himself, he glanced at Spock. Facing burning, he immediately forced his eyes back to the table. When he dared look back at Bones, he was trying and failing to suppress a told-you-so smile. 

“Cohabiting going well?” Bones asked innocently, and Kirk kicked him under the table.

☆☆☆

Kirk’s first full shift since the day of the wedding started off quietly. They orbited gently around Starbase 27, depositing old supplies that needed replacing and restocking on the things they wouldn’t be able to replicate as they headed deeper into unclaimed space. Only one requisition request took him by surprise: First Officer S’chn T’gai Spock requested additional unreplicated foodstuffs “to test the validity of the hypothesis of the potential forthcoming revision to Regulation 6245-B.” Warmth bloomed in his chest as he signed his approval and shipped it back to Janice for implementation. 

He looked around at his crew during one of the lulls: Chekov and Sulu arguing over the fastest way through a nearby asteroid belt that wouldn’t earn them an explosive decompression; Uhura sorting through messages, translating incoming intel and keeping an eye on local transmissions; Scotty and one of his engineers on their backs beneath a misbehaving console panel. Spock scanned through sensor readings, occasionally glancing out the viewscreen or back at Kirk, and his fingers twitched against his thighs in a way that Kirk recognized as boredom, though Spock would never admit to it. He stood up and stretched hugely before wandering up behind Spock, peering over his shoulder at the completely average readings. 

“Captain,” Spock said, and he sat back in his chair. His shoulder blades brushed Kirk’s stomach, and the back of his head leaned slightly against Kirk’s sternum. The position gave him deja vu to just a few days previously, when they had been in the same position, when Spock had been reading through the nurses’ report on their movements through Medbay.

Before Kirk allowed himself to think through whether or not it was wise, he rested his hands on Spock’s shoulders in front of him, his thumbs brushing the warm skin of his neck, just above the collar of his uniform. So quietly that Kirk almost missed it, Spock sighed through his nose, and he leaned further back against him, eyes closing in a slow blink. 

“Anything interesting going on out there?” 

“Clarify the parameters of ‘interesting,’ sir.” 

“I’ll take that as a no,” Kirk said, laughing, and he gave himself one more second to appreciate Spock leaning against him, the warmth under his hands, before he reminded himself that he was on duty and would have significant supervision for the next ten days. He was looking forward to having something to do, even if that something was ferrying around stuffy admirals like an oversized tourist ship. At least he would get to spend some time with Chris again. He owed the man at least one drink--- it had been his idea, after all, that had started everything.

An hour later, after Kirk had gotten to the bottom of his paperwork pile, his mind wandered to what Spock had told him that morning, worrying at the thought like he was pressing on a bruise. The unmarked black shuttle that haunted his dreams belonged to a branch of Starfleet. It was an esoteric, virtually invisible branch (one that was mostly mentioned as a scary story to threaten misbehaving ensigns with), but it was a subsection of the organization to which he had pledged his entire life. Why had Section 31 come to Tarsus, and only saved Kodos? 

They had seen him. He had killed one of them. One of them had seriously considered killing him in return. And yet they had disappeared with Kodos and left him alive on the cursed colony, assuming that he would starve to death; they must not have known that the Valiant was only a day behind. Lieutenant Commander Ashton Park’s message had been sent out on public relay for anyone to hear. Was there so little communication between Section 31 and the rest of Starfleet?

But that wasn’t the only unpleasant shock of the morning. Kirk had spent very little time reflecting on the months he spent in and out of hospitals; Dr. Johns had murmured soft words about his ‘ordeal’ and then explained virtually nothing about what was being done to him. But Spock thought that his treatment didn’t line up with what Starfleet said had happened. 

Kirk pulled out his padd and tried to force his hands to stop shaking. He had told Spock that he could see his records, and he would keep his word. Even if it physically hurt him to do it. He tapped on his message thread with Bones, and smiled wryly at their last, ironic exchange.

> TheRealMcCoy: have you talked to spock?

In a manner of speaking, he had. And bringing Spock into his confidences, against all of the instruction that Elise had drilled into him, had broken the pattern he had been stuck in and set him moving forward again. 

> JTK: hi 

> TheRealMcCoy: Hi yourself 

> JTK: I have a request

> TheRealMcCoy: What is it? 

> JTK: I need to see my medical records 

A pause.

> TheRealMcCoy: Are you sick? 

> JTK: No 

> JTK: I want Spock to see them

> TheRealMcCoy: See what, exactly?

> JTK: All of it

> TheRealMcCoy: Are you serious?

> JTK: As a heart attack

> TheRealMcCoy: Not funny 

Kirk could see Bones typing and then stopping, as if he were writing and rewriting his message. In the end, all he sent was: 

> TheRealMcCoy: Really?

> JTK: yes 

> TheRealMcCoy: That’s good

> TheRealMcCoy: That’s great

> TheRealMcCoy: Come by whenever

He couldn’t say he was looking forward to the conversation, or to showing Spock the awful holos of himself. But after years of Tarsus-related stagnation, having a question to answer and something to work towards felt good. It felt like healing. He glanced over at Spock, bending over his sensor, and could not stop himself from admiring the long lines of his body.

Scotty’s voice came over the comm. “Captain, stationmaster reports the admirals are ready to beam aboard.” 

“Thank you, Scotty,” Kirk said. “I’ll be down in just a moment. Kirk out.” He released the comm button and stood. “Spock, with me. Chris will want to see you first, and April too, probably. Sulu, you have the conn.” 

“Yes, captain,” Sulu said, standing to take his seat, and Kirk and Spock went down to the turbolift. “Transporter,” Spock said, and the doors closed between them and the bridge. 

They stood in silence for half a second before Kirk turned to Spock. He inhaled, but the daring glint in Spock’s eyes answered his question. He was across the turbolift and pressed against Spock in the space of a heartbeat. Even as his lips met Kirk’s, Spock twisted the handle that stopped the turbolift and wrapped both arms around his waist, pulling him flush against him. Kirk brought his hands up to frame Spock’s face, feeling the silk of his hair and the points of his ears. Spock had lost his hesitation, and he licked possessively into Kirk’s mouth, and the warm wet heat of it drove him to distraction. He worried Spock’s lip between his teeth like he had before, and Spock’s response came from somewhere deep in his chest and went straight to Kirk’s groin. 

He summoned all of his willpower to pull his mouth from Spock’s before he lost all possibility of discretion. “We’ve got places to be,” he said, looking up at Spock. Spock’s gaze flicked down to his mouth before meeting his eyes, and he pressed his lips into a thin pink line before restarting the turbolift.

“Indeed,” Spock said, and Kirk grinned at the barely disguised disappointment in his tone as they descended further through the ship.

Scotty was waiting by the transporter console when they arrived, the flashing lights indicating that two were ready for transport. He was polite enough to ignore when they both straightened their tunics in guilty symmetry, smothering a knowing smirk.

“Energize when ready, Scotty,” Kirk said. 

“Energizing, captain.” 

Two golden pillars of light materialized on the transporter pad, shimmering and humming until they coalesced into two figures: Admiral April, tall and broad in his uniform, and Admiral Pike in his turbochair. Spock lifted the ta’al as Kirk strode forward to shake hands. April, unsmiling, shook his hand firmly, once, before stepping off the pad to approach Spock. Though Chris’s hands were encased in the body of the hoverchair, his upper torso was visible above the top, and his eyes twinkled merrily as Kirk squeezed his shoulder. 

“Admiral Pike,” Kirk said, and Chris’s voice--- familiar, realistic, just like he had remembered--- came from a speaker on the front of the chair. 

“You calling me admiral makes me feel like an old man,” he complained. 

Kirk grinned broadly. “You have your own voice again!” The last time he and Spock had seen Chris, he had still been in the early days of recovering from the accident, and his voice had still been the robotic standard of all vocal replacements. His skin had not yet healed then, either; now that it had scarred and settled, the ridged pattern of the radiation burns reminded Kirk of beaches and wind-blown sand dunes.

“It was a gift from Number One,” Chris said. “She and that scary lawyer friend of hers convinced the regulatory board to declassify my logs early so we could use them to train the voicebox. And she said talking so much would never be good for anything!” Kirk laughed, and Chris’s warm laughter came through the voicebox.

“Admiral Pike,” Spock said, stepping up to them, April trailing him with a deepening frown, eyes glancing between him and Kirk. 

“Not you too,” Chris said, and Spock raised his eyebrows at Kirk as if to say, What did you do? “It’s good to see you, Spock!” 

Spock walked next to Chris’s turbochair, his head bent down to listen, occasionally offering an observation that made Chris’s deep belly laugh ring out from his voicebox. With one tap to Spock’s shoulder as he passed, Kirk dropped back to walk next to April. The lights of the corridor glinted off the dark skin of his bald head, and the surety of his stride reminded Kirk that before the Enterprise had been his, or Pike’s, she had been April’s. 

“Your secret put me in a difficult position, Kirk,” April said. He rubbed one hand over his beard as he considered Kirk, and his dark eyes were shrewd. 

“I’m sorry, Admiral,” Kirk said, though he wasn’t. “We had decided long ago that discretion was the best option. We didn’t mean to cause any inconvenience.”

“He should be leading that science vessel and you know it.” So they were going to argue about where Spock should spend his career, not whether or not they were married. Kirk couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed.

“Maybe, but he didn’t want it. The crew of a ship takes their cues from their captain, and having a captain who doesn’t want to be there is a surefire way to ruin a mission.” 

They took the turbolift in pained silence, and as Chris and Spock led the way down the hallway April continued quietly to Kirk, “He would have gotten used to it. It would have been good for him. By the time he retires, he’ll have been a first officer for, what? Forty years? Sixty? And he could be so much more.” April’s tone, his insinuations, set Kirk’s teeth on edge, and anger spiked in his stomach. 

“With all due respect, Admiral, I care more about what he wants than what you think is good for him.” 

“Right,” April said. “Because you are his husband.” There it was. Ahead of them, Kirk saw Spock’s head turn slightly--- that Vulcan hearing didn’t miss anything. 

“I am,” Kirk said, and claiming that title aloud made something glow inside him, even as he noted April’s unreadable glance at him. “The ready room, gentlemen.” He tapped the door open and stood back to let the admirals enter before gesturing Spock in as well. Spock passed so closely by him that he could feel the heat of him, and Spock’s quick darting glance at him confirmed that he knew what he was doing. Kirk pressed his lips together to suppress a smile and shut the door behind them. When he looked up at the officers around his conference table, April’s acute focus was on Spock, and there was that same unreadable expression on his face. Kirk had expected frustration, or indignation at Spock’s decision; he had not expected this somber consideration.

“We await your orders, sir,” he said, to break the silence, and April cleared his throat. 

“We’ll need to stay in orbit around SB27 for three more days,” April said. “I need access to the high-speed relay to send a few reports. Then we’ll depart for Kindinos VI, because they’ve been radio-silent for a few weeks. I don’t think anything has gone wrong, necessarily, but the dilithium mine there is an important resource and I’d rather be safe than sorry. Then, assuming they’re fine and don’t need more assistance, we will drop in on any other colonies out that way that need a wellness check, and then rendezvous with the U.S.S. Maddox in twelve days.” 

“Yes, sir,” Kirk said, but the name of the ship they were meeting unsettled him. He knew he had heard of the ship before, but he couldn’t remember the context at the moment. Spock’s eyes met his, and he knew that Spock had recognized the name as well. 

Kirk pulled a datapadd off the charging port on the table and tapped it open, and started working through the logistics of April’s orders. For the better part of two hours they arranged travel, lodging, fueling, and the rendezvous, until Chris let out the sound of a huge fake yawn. Spock raised one eyebrow at him.

“As fun as this is, I would love to see how the rest of the ship has changed since my time, if you can be spared for a tour.” 

Kirk grinned and pushed his chair back. “Our day is yours, Admiral,” he said, and they departed to the dulcet tones of Chris grumbling about his promotion again. 

☆☆☆

Spock led them deeper into the ship and halted at a closed lab door.

“One of the scientists has been analyzing patterns of decay in shield panels at warp speed. Would you like to see her research?” 

“Hell yeah,” Pike said, and though his face did not move, curiosity shone in his eyes. Spock opened the lab door, revealing Dr. Khan and a bank of computers. She turned as the door opened, standing up out of her chair as she saw the guests. 

“Admiral April, Admiral Pike, this is Dr. Priyal Khan.”

“Admirals. Captain. Mr. Spock,” she said, looking at them in turn. “I was just applying historical data to the most recent iteration of my algorithm. Would you care to see?” April, whether out of politeness or to get away from Kirk to save his last nerve, stepped forward to listen. 

“How’s married life?” Chris asked quietly, and Kirk marveled at the control that the new voicebox allowed him.

“It’s good. It’s really good,” Kirk said. He crouched down next to Chris’s chair so he could lower his voice. “We owe you big-time.” 

“I’m glad it worked out,” Chris said, and his eyes flicked to Spock before meeting Kirk’s again. “But you should know that April is still hesitant about all this.” 

“I had noticed,” Spock said. “I do not think, however, that…” Then his head snapped towards April, where he stood talking to Dr. Khan. Chris and Kirk both turned to listen in as well. 

“We were aware, sir,” she said. She stuck one hand in the pocket of her lab coat and pushed her glasses up her nose with the others. “It was hard not to be. The captain started showing up down here about six weeks in, and then he never left.” 

April asked something so quietly that Kirk couldn’t hear it, but he heard Dr. Khan’s derisive snort. “No, sir. Quite the opposite. It was…” Then she stopped and turned abruptly to the eavesdroppers. “If I’m going to give an unbiased review of my supervisor, he and his hearing need to leave.” 

Spock straightened, affronted, as Kirk smothered a smile and turned for the door. 

“There’s no need for that,” April said, and he shook Dr. Khan’s hand. “I appreciate your candor.” 

“Anytime,” she said, and she turned her back on him to resume her work. Spock, hands behind his back, led them deeper into the labs, pointing out various changes and experiments to Chris. Kirk walked alongside Spock, watching him work, and seeing the furrows in April’s brow get deeper and deeper as he watched them in kind.

Spock led them through more of the labs, where April asked each of Spock’s scientists the same questions he had asked Dr. Khan. Had they been aware that the captain and the commander were in a relationship? Had that relationship caused any distraction or any other problems while Kirk had been in command? 

Kirk had learned, first from Uhura and then from the general response to the wedding, that a significant faction of the crew had believed that he and Spock were either already in a relationship or were going to be in one shortly. This knowledge did nothing to blunt the shock of hearing over and over again: 

“Yeah, we knew.” 

“It was the ship’s worst-kept secret.” 

“No captain spends that much time in the labs unless they’ve got a reason to be there. A good reason.” 

One biologist whispered “sorry!” in Spock’s direction before she said to April, “We all noticed when they started spending more time together because there was a shift in Mr. Spock’s management style.” Chris, who had started out laughing at each answer before he fell into a thoughtful silence, rotated his entire chair to stare Spock down after that one. 

And to the second question: 

“No.” 

“No, sir.” 

“Not at all.” 

“I think it was good for both of them. And good for us.”

From labs, to engineering, to Giotto’s office, to the bridge, the response was the same: the crew had known. It had made both of them better, and it made the crew better. As they walked through the ship, Spock brushed his fingers against Kirk’s wrist, placing his hand on his lower back as he passed, and Kirk took every opportunity he could to bump their shoulders together. When he had envisioned April’s arrival on their ship, he had thought that they would be performing as a couple. He had never thought that he would be reaching out to touch Spock because he wanted to. April watched them move around each other, and interrogated the crew, and with each testimony about their long-standing and poorly disguised relationship his expression passed from solemn to downright defeated.

As the ship’s clock counted down the minutes to the end of alpha shift, Kirk and Spock walked April and Pike to the guest quarters. 

“Thank you for the tour, captain. Commander. Good night,” April said abruptly. He glanced between Kirk and Spock, seemingly measuring the distance between them, before vanishing into one of the quarters. The door slid shut behind him, leaving the three other men in shocked silence. Kirk glanced down at Chris for an explanation, but Chris just lifted one shoulder stiffly in the universal gesture of “hell if I know.” Spock broke the tension.

“Captain, we are due in the gymnasium soon for another suus mahna lesson shortly. Admiral Pike, would you care to join us?” 

“If you call me admiral one more time, Spock, I’ll run you over with this chair. See if I won’t.” But he joined them in the turbolift and met them in the gym after they had changed, and they found Giotto and Spock’s little class of six waiting for them. Kirk sat on the bench on the outskirts of the room next to Chris while Spock warmed up the attendees and started drilling them. They must have been practicing with each other in between lessons, Kirk thought, because their movements were less jerky and unsure than they had been before. One and Two moved in eerie symmetry, Crovath and Laila following behind, but they progressed more quickly through the beginning moves and moved onto more advanced combinations shortly.

Kirk chatted quietly with Chris, getting updates on old shipmates, on Number One, and on Chris’s life since the accident, until Spock paused and turned, looking over his shoulder for Kirk. “I think this is my cue,” he said to Chris, and joined Spock on the mat. 

“I will demonstrate how you can use your opponent’s momentum against them, which is useful when you stand against one either larger or with a longer reach than you.” 

Kirk put his hands on his hips. “Neither of those things are true here,” he pointed out, and Spock sighed quietly through his nose. 

“Please participate regardless for the purpose of the demonstration, captain,” Spock said. 

“Yes, dear,” Kirk said, and the watching security officers grinned. Spock cocked his head, eyes alight, and he shifted forward into a waiting, predatory stance. Kirk shook his arms out, suddenly wishing he had warmed up instead of chatting with Chris. But it was too late for that now. He bounced a couple of times, Spock’s eyes tracking his movement, before swinging cautiously at Spock. 

Spock batted his hands away like he was offended by the effort, but something was different. Kirk lashed out again, aiming for his ribs, stepping forward with the motion, and Spock directed his arm off to the side, sending him wide, clearing room for Spock to step around him neatly. Kirk spun to protect his back, his skin tingling pleasantly. He dodged to the side to attack again, and time slowed as his mind woke up and got out of his way. 

When they had fought before, Spock had blocked him with the tightest economy of movement; he would tap Kirk’s limbs out of the way with short, sure bursts of contact from the blade of his hand or a closed fist. But now he blocked Kirk’s moves with an open palm. He wrapped his hand around Kirk’s wrist to redirect him, and dragged his fingertips along his forearm when he parried Kirk’s lazy opening swings. 

It was a soft, almost unnoticeable change, and distractingly erotic. Kirk stepped into Spock’s space, removing the advantage of his superior reach, but Spock circled him, the active heat of him radiating against Kirk’s back, and he fought a shiver. They circled each other, Spock pushing him to move faster, his hands warm against Kirk’s shoulder, elbow, wrist, hips as he forced Kirk off balance. The places where his palms had been felt warm long after the contact had ended. They traded blows. Kirk pushed Spock backwards, but Spock circled him again, forcing him into another tight spin. 

He twisted over his shoulder to keep his eyes on Spock, and Spock moved. He planted one foot behind Kirk, in the middle of his stance, pushed him neatly backwards with one long hand against his sternum, and sent him crashing to the floor.

Or, he would have crashed to the floor, if Spock hadn’t lunged over him and caught him with one arm behind his back, inches from the mat. The air wheezed from Kirk’s lungs as Spock straightened back upright, pulling Kirk up with him. 

“Thank you for your assistance,” Spock said, and bowed slightly to him. 

“Anytime,” Kirk wheezed, and clapped Spock on the shoulder. Winded, humbled, and buzzing from the overload of physical contact, he returned to his seat next to Chris as he lifted his water bottle to his mouth. Chris’s eyes remained fixed on Spock until he returned his attention to the security students, and then he rotated his chair to face Kirk directly.

“Jim,” Chris said quietly. “I didn’t know. When I suggested the regs, I didn’t…” He trailed off, uncertain. 

“There was nothing to know then,” Kirk murmured back. He watched the grace of Spock’s movements distractedly before meeting Chris’s eyes again. “But since then...”

“This morning, I thought: wow. These two are better actors than I ever could have guessed. But after the rest of today, the way he touches you--- I’ve known him a long time, Jim, and this is a side of him that I have never seen before.” 

Something pleased and possessive lit up in him. “It’s new,” he admitted. “We haven’t really talked about it yet. But I think we might owe you a very nice case of pretty much whatever you want.” 

“Ask Una what she wants,” Chris said. “Most things taste the same to me now.”

“Damn you,” groaned Kirk. “She always had more expensive opinions.” But he leaned his shoulder over to bump Chris’s, and they watched Spock work in companionable silence until he dismissed the students and Giotto with a bow and joined them.

“Hand to hand,” Chris said approvingly. “It’s a useful skill, and not one enough people have a mastery of. Your idea?” 

“Giotto’s, actually,” Kirk said, and they changed back into their uniforms and made their way to the guest quarters. 

“These bones need a rest, and I’ve got more work to do anyway,” Chris said, and the ridges of his scars shone beneath the hallway lights. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow. Try not to get into any more trouble, will you?” 

“I make no promises,” Kirk said, and with a fond scoff Chris vanished into his room. His departure left them alone in the hallway, facing each other, Spock’s hands clasped loosely behind his back. 

“I told Bones we would come by,” Kirk said.

“Then we should not keep the doctor waiting,” Spock said, and they turned for the turbolift. “Do you require dinner first?” Kirk shook his head. 

“After,” he said, and though they walked in silence through the quiet hallways, Spock brushed his hand gently with his.

☆☆☆

Sickbay was quiet and dim when they arrived, the lights lowered for the comfort of the patients that were there overnight. There were not many; with no recent dangerous away missions, most of Sickbay’s work was routine, scheduled health maintenance for the people who lived on the ship. Chapel sat at a computer, tapping her chin with one finger as she scanned something on the screen. She looked up at their entrance and smiled. 

“What can I do for you, sir? Mr. Spock?” 

“Just here to see Bones, Christine. At ease.” 

She nodded at Bones’s office door as they passed, and they lost her attention to her work soon after that. Kirk knocked once on the door, and from within the gruff Southern voice said, “Come on in.” 

Kirk opened the door and stepped through, Spock at his shoulder like a shadow. Bones sat at his desk, steaming mug of some tea at hand, illuminated by the dim light of the console. 

“Hey there, Bones,” Kirk said, and tried unsuccessfully to keep his brain from replaying their argument from the last time he had been in this room.

“Welcome back, Jimmy,” Bones said, and the tenor of his voice was gentle enough that Kirk knew that he had been forgiven. “I’m given to understand that you want to see your records.” 

Though his hands were still clasped behind his back, Spock’s shoulder pressed into Kirk’s from behind, solid, warm, and comforting. Kirk straightened his spine and nodded.

“I’ve been looking over them since we talked the other day,” Bones said, and he stood to come closer, sitting himself halfway onto his desk. “About security officers.” He glanced at Spock before looking back at Kirk, shrewd blue eyes measuring their proximity. “Can I speak freely, Jim?” 

“Please,” Kirk said. “He, ah. He knows everything.” 

“He does?” Bones raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, considering Spock with his head tilted. “Would you mind terribly elaborating on just what you mean by everything?” 

“I showed him,” Kirk said, and those eyes turned back to him. “Last night. After we got back from the starbase. I asked for his help with finding out more about that officer, and from there…” He blinked as his body recalled the panic, the nausea, the stoppage of his throat, and behind his back Spock’s hand came up to press comfortingly against his spine. He cleared his throat. “Talking about it doesn’t work for me, I’m afraid. So…” He looked at Spock, who looked steadily at Bones. 

“The captain allowed me to perform a mindmeld between us so that I might witness his experiences without his having to discuss them.” 

Bones looked between them, calculating, before he cleared his throat. “How do you feel, Jimmy?” 

“Better,” Kirk said immediately, surprised at his own sureness, and Bones nodded, and Kirk saw the beginnings of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He gestured back to his console. 

“I read back through the reports of your treatment after the Valiant showed up,” Bones said. “There are about a million entries. The CMO from the Valiant had some interesting things to say, but after that? A whole lot of nothing.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that the reports are bullshit--- your temperature, height and weight, blood panels, notes on your mood, but in every one it says that testing was performed and results analyzed. But the tests are never named, and the results never discussed.” Bones quirked his mouth to one side and tapped his shoe against his desk. “There’s also something a little odd. There’s a misspelling in every single entry after your Dr. Johns took over, and always the same five or six words. There was one in your blood tests too. I’ll be damned if I could find a pattern, but I was actually hoping that one of you boys could work some computer magic and make it spit out more information.” 

“Understanding software architecture is not magic, doctor---”

“You know damn well what I meant, what with being a computer yourself---”

Kirk grinned broadly as his two favorite people in the universe bitched at each other, and when Bones turned to him with a this is the man you married? face, he nodded. Bones stepped back to his console before turning to meet Spock’s eyes. When he spoke, it was for Spock only. 

“Jim wants you to see everything, so you’ll see everything. But I’ll tell you now, Spock, it’s heavy stuff.” Bones crossed his arms and stared Spock down, and his unsaid words hung between them: so if you can’t handle that, then get out now. 

Spock held Bones’s gaze unflinchingly as he said evenly, “I can assure you, doctor, that my strength is more than equal to its weight.” Spock’s statement hung in the air, the two men holding the other’s gaze, until Bones nodded decisively and stepped aside, allowing Spock entry. Spock pressed his hand once more against Kirk’s back before dropping it and following Bones to his computer.

Bones claimed his desk chair and Kirk and Spock hovered over his shoulders as he pulled up Kirk’s medical file.

“Kirk, James Tiberius,” Bones drawled. “Born on Earth, outrageously young to be a captain, aptitude test scores too high to be good for anyone. Yadda yadda yadda.” He scrolled down past Kirk’s current medical standing and, with only one second’s hesitation, clicked on something. A subfile opened, and the bolded heading at the top read “SURVIVOR RECORD, TARSUS IV - MINOR.” 

“Ready, Jim?” Bones’s voice was quiet. Kirk nodded, but turned around, crossing his arms as he leaned against the edge of the desk. He knew that the first thing in the file would be the set of holos that the staff of the Valiant had taken. Some things didn’t need to be re-witnessed. He felt the comforting weight, muscle, fat, and bone of his healthy body under his hands and kept the console screen out of his field of vision. 

The console controller clicked gently as Bones scrolled. Spock leaned over his shoulder, one hand planted on Bones’s desk, the other on the back of Bones’s chair, peering intently at the screen. The blue-white light of the console washed out his features, leaving only his dark eyes. Spock absorbed the information in silence as Bones scrolled on, from the pictures of Jimmy’s emaciation to the results of the barrage of tests that the Valiant had done, to his return to Earth, and then to the period of time he spent under Dr. Johns’s care. 

“Enough,” Spock eventually said, his voice gravelly. He straightened, gaze fixed on the screen, before he broke away from it to look at Kirk. He clasped his hands together before immediately releasing them. He took two quick steps towards Kirk and compulsively ran his hand from Kirk’s neck, over his shoulder, and down his arm before he clasped his hands behind him. The path that his hand had taken burned pleasantly. “The records from Dr. Johns do not reflect the reality of Jim’s treatment. And while it seems as though the Valiant was treating the children--- or at least the captain--- for mycotoxicosis as well as the burns and starvation, I do not believe that the survivors were able to ingest enough of what killed the harvest to have suffered the effects of it.” 

“The official cause of the famine was Fusarium graminearum,” Bones said. “If ingested through consumption of post-corruption, pre-rot food, it could---” 

“Tarsus was in drought, doctor,” Spock said quietly, and Bones rocked back in his chair. “And there was no carrier stage in whatever killed the plants. It was rapid.” He paused, and cocked his head. “And blue. I also believe that you ought to know that Johns was not only testing Jim on a weekly basis, but sending him for dialysis.” 

“Hemodialysis? Weekly? For a teenager without any symptoms of kidney failure?” Bones looked at Kirk, eyebrows pulling together. “Jim, is that right?” Kirk nodded once. 

“And what exactly do you mean, that it was blue?” 

Spock glanced at Kirk, and Kirk nodded again. Spock said, “His school had been growing crops before the famine. He witnessed them as they decayed, and it was unlike any fungal infection I have ever seen. The resultant matter was a metallic blue.” 

Bones worried his lip between his teeth, frowning at the records on the screen. “Okay,” he said finally. “Okay. So we know that the records have been falsified, and the psychologist was a security officer. Based on what Jim’s said, I would guess that her role was to keep him from sharing anything about Tarsus. But what in the devil does that mean?” 

Spock glanced at Kirk with a question on his face, and Kirk nodded again, closing his eyes. He heard Spock shift, and one long, familiar hand wrapped around his wrist, a loose cuff that anchored him more firmly into his skin. He opened his eyes and covered Spock’s hand with his own. 

“One more datum, doctor, that I believe is central to your question. Something that I was only able to learn because Jim showed me what he saw, rather than expressing it verbally. Jim was the only witness to Section 31’s extraction of Kodos from Tarsus.”

“You were the only witness to what.” Bones’s voice went flat. He stood up, his chair scraping back against the floor, hands flat on the desk. Kirk met his eyes, grinned crookedly, and shrugged. 

“Wrong place, wrong time,” he said wryly, and Bones’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know if I should be even more impressed that you survived or just angry that you had to survive this at all, Jim.” 

“I recommend both, doctor,” Spock said, and Kirk and Bones both turned to him in surprise. “Tomorrow, perhaps, after the Alpha shift, I would like to study Jim’s records more closely and cross-reference them both with his memories and Kevin Riley’s records, with his permission. The misspellings you mentioned may be a code, or a way to hide information.”

Bones looked to Kirk for his assent, and Kirk nodded. He said, “You said you had a hypothesis, Spock. Care to share it now?” 

Spock straightened, and with one more squeeze of Kirk’s wrist he released it to cross his arms across his chest. “My previous interactions with Section 31 have always been in relation to Starfleet research and development. While that is not all that they do, I believe it to be a significant aspect of their role.” He took a deep breath and glanced between Kirk and Bones. 

“I believe that there was some sort of biological experiment occurring on Tarsus IV. Based on your memories, I hypothesize that it escaped containment during development and contaminated the water supply, infecting both crops and settlers. Section 31 arrived after receiving Lieutenant Commander Parks’s message in order to protect the research investment and salvage any remaining data from the experiment. Finding Kodos alive was almost certainly an accident, but the knowledge he held made him a valuable resource. You and the other survivors required experimental medical care from doctors affiliated with Section 31 so that no one else learned of the true nature of the infection.” 

Spock’s voice was almost apologetic as he said, “Section 31 may have exerted such effort to keep you silent and isolated in order to hide the fact that it saved Kodos after the genocide, an action that would have opened them to investigation and prosecution if discovered. If you never identified the shuttle, and never told anyone that you had seen Kodos leave the planet, then they could allow you to live.”

“Holy shit,” Bones said, sinking down to sit on his desk. “Holy shit.”

Kirk bent over. He planted his hands on his thighs and hung his head. He stared at his black work boots and his uniform trousers and the familiar tiled floor of Medbay. So many details, so many secrets, and all of it hiding the truth. So many moving pieces, so much specialized knowledge, had to align for him to hold this information in his head, in his hands. Elise had weaponized his love for his crew, his sense of duty, against himself to cover up a Starfleet failure of the highest order. 

Kirk gave himself five breaths to pull himself together. On the first three, he felt nothing. On four, he connected his mind back to his body. On five, he stood up straight and planted his fists on his waist. His best friend paced across his office, arms crossed severely over his chest, blue eyes filled with worry. His husband, whose beautiful mind had picked through all the broken shards of information and given him the shape of the whole, stood across from him. And though he felt like he was full of wounds, he was still on his own two feet. 

“Jim?” Bones’s voice was gentle, and he realized they were both looking at him. His heart thundered in his chest, and it was a painful, welcome reminder that he was alive. 

“Do you want God’s honest truth, Bones?” 

“Sure, Jim,” Bones said cautiously.

“I’m almost glad.” Spock’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “After all this time, all these years…” Kirk inhaled again until his lungs stretched uncomfortably, and it was beautiful to him. “It feels better to know that it might mean something.” 

“How do you mean?” Bones watched him carefully.

“I do believe in luck,” Jimmy Kirk said. “I believe in miracles. And for years I’ve been unable to reconcile those beliefs with what happened on the colony. That I was there, and that it happened at all. I couldn’t rationalize it to myself. But now…” He paused, and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. He had seen and survived horrible things, and now he had the chance to make it matter. Despite everything, a smile grew across his face. “I saw what I saw. I survived what I survived. And now I have the chance to make sure Elise and Kodos, and all of Section 31 if I have to, are brought to justice. I don’t care if it takes me the rest of my life. Because I’m still alive, I can do this for everyone who died on the colony. For the kids that I protected.” He swallowed thickly, his throat dry, and looked at his friends. “And for me.” 

Without hesitation Bones crossed back towards him in three huge steps, face hard, and threw his arms around Kirk. “Jesus, Jim,” he said. “You’re gonna be the death of me someday, you know that, right?” 

Kirk hugged him back. “Probably. But at least it won’t be today.” Bones released him and stepped back, turning back to his console to look at something on the screen. Spock reached across to him again, running his hand from Kirk’s neck down his arm and back up again, before coming to stand next to him. Their shoulders pressed together, and Kirk leaned against him. Spock adjusted himself, pulling Kirk to rest against his chest, his hand coming to circle Kirk’s waist and secure him against him.

Bones shut down his console and turned to Spock. “Tomorrow, when you go through the records, I’d like to be there. I need to know what they did.”

“Certainly, doctor. I propose that we---” 

The wall unit buzzed three times, and all three of them turned to look at it. It buzzed once more before an officer said, “Captain to the bridge. Captain Kirk to the bridge, please.” 

“What the hell?” Bones asked, turning to him. Kirk frowned and shrugged, but he brushed his tunic down and straightened himself up. 

“Thank you, Bones,” he said. “For everything.” Bones nodded at him. “Spock, with me.” 

☆☆☆

He and Spock arrived on the bridge to a hushed and nervous crew. The beta shift comms officer, one Lieutenant Ortiz, looked to Kirk as soon as he stepped out of the transporter. 

“We got an emergency message over subspace, captain. From outside of Federation space,” Ortiz said. 

“Put it on the main viewer, please,” he said, and Ortiz tapped her console. The viewscreen flashed. Then the video message opened. For a few seconds, there was only static, cresting and falling in volume like a wave. There was a shrill, piercing sound that might have been a scream, and the booming echo of an explosion. Then the picture resolved into something recognizable.

“Please,” a haggard face begged. Both his voice and the camera were shaking. “This is Overman Dima Marcus, of Kindinos IV. If there’s anyone out there---” There was another explosion, and the image juddered. “If anyone gets this message, please. Help us.” 

[kimberius]

Summary of my latest TOS Spirk story. Posted yesterday. Here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49871887/chapters/125899279

[spirk-trek]

Contact Fanzine | Pat Stall, 1977

[celestialvoyeur]

💛💙SPIRK FIC REC - MY FAVOURITES💙💛

As a follow up to my recent post about how few fics make it to my favourites list, and how special they are to achieve that distinction, I decided to share my current list.

I’ve shared some of these individually in the past but here you’ll have them all together. 

If you've read any of these already then I'd love to hear your thoughts on whether you loved them as much as I did! 🥰

(NB: these are not listed in any order of preference. Mostly it’s the reverse order in which I read them)

Leave No Soul Behind by whochick Words: 258,951

AOS, AU Canon-Divergence. Spock, Kirk and the other valiant members of the Emergency Personnel Ambulance Service fight to save lives and turn the tide of the ongoing war against Nero and his fleet before it’s too late. Such a beautiful slow burn for Spock and Kirk.

Atlas by distractedKat Words: 135,529

AOS. Follow on from 2009, Kirk, Spock and the rest deal with the aftermath of Nero’s attack and rebuilding after the decimation of the ‘Fleet and Academy. An exciting tale with twists and turns involving black ops, bad-mirals, action, love and fierce loyalty.

The Lotus Eaters by aldora89 Words: 93,594

AOS. Stranded on a planet together, with multiple dangers and very little hope of rescue, Jim and Spock have no choice but to rely on each other to survive. Spectacular plot, amazing world building, fabulous original character and an epic slow burn Spirk love story!

With Your Feet on the Air and Your Head on the Ground by flippyspoon Words: 39,188 @flippyspoon

SNW. A phenomenal Spirk fic in which Kirk is stuck in Spock's mind while the crew work to find a way to retrieve his body. A wonderful getting to know you/falling for you hard tale. Wonderfully written and highly entertaining.

Evolution by Rhaegal (RhaegalKS) Words: 149,293

AOS. Covering the first year of their 5 year mission, this is totally flawless. The character voices are perfection, the prose spectacular. The whole thing plays like an AOS movie. It’s phenomenal.

Emotions by LadyRa Words: 35,569

TOS. Spock gets drugged on a shore leave and is overwhelmed with its effects. Kirk tries to pick up the pieces. A beautiful, and wonderfully grounded, story of realising how much they mean to each other.

And When the Bond Breaks by LadyRa Words: 24,631

TOS. Spock takes out a shuttle to investigate an anomaly and returns to an Enterprise that’s not his own. Time travel shenanigans with such emotional depth that it will traumatise you in the best way. Stunningly good!

All Our Tomorrows Come Today by flippyspoon Words: 18,156 @flippyspoon

SNW. A newly introduced Jim and Spock accidentally get a glimpse into the future and see what they’re going to be to each other (a.k.a. Spirk’s Greatest Hits). A stunningly told story about finding the great love of your life. 

I Won't Make That Mistake Again by Moreta1848 Words: 69,402 @jennelikejennay

SNW/TOS. An epic story detailing Spock and Kirk’s love throughout their lives, beginning from their meeting on Pike’s Enterprise (SNW) and continuing on to an eventual  Generations fix-it happy ending. Wonderful!

No Going Back, No Before by spirkme Words: 78,486 @spirkme915

SNW/TOS. Timeline shenanigans, spies, twists & turns, pining, angst, sacrifice and so so much love!

The 1,000 Hour Sleep by spqr Words: 27,227

SNW. Jim’s been infected with a pathogen that means he can’t sleep, but it he doesn’t he’ll die. Cue Spock and his Vulcan telepathy helping Jim to achieve the sleep he needs, while they get to know each other within their shared mindscapes. A sweet and exciting story about falling in love and overcoming your own inner demons.

First Best Destiny by Ophelia_j Words: 387,733

TOS/TNG. Such a very special fic. Epic in its scope, it covers the entire timeline of Spirk from their very first meeting through to a  clever and satisfying Generations fix-it ending. It provides extra scenes, additional dialogue and internal monologues to expand on existing canon in a really compelling and effective way. Truly this is my new TOS canon.

The Steadfastness of Stars by itsnatalie Words: 61,566

AOS. After Beyond, The crew investigate sudden climate change on a frozen planet and find more than they bargained for. The perfect mix of great plot, fun original characters, action, mystery, world building and deep deep love.

Let Forever Be by gunstreet Words: 43,446 @gunstreet

TOS. A really compelling character study of James T. Kirk. An excellent companion piece to City on the Edge of Forever. Exploring what Jim and Spock got up to, and all they had to overcome, while trying to find Bones and their way back home.

Time After Time by spaceisgay (ChancellorGriffin) Words: 138,921

SNW. Kirk spends a 6 month rotation on the Enterprise as part of his command training. OK, if there’s a favourite of my favourites then this may be it. It’s such a stunning version of their love story, with a beautifully constructed plot. It runs the emotional gamut from moments that will have you laughing out loud to moments that will have you in floods of tears. 

milk and honey by spaceisgay (ChancellorGriffin) Words: 28,651

SNW. Kirk and Spock meet for the first time when they wake up in a prison cell together. A really fun, and extremely clever, version of the ‘aliens made them do it’ trope. It’s intriguing and funny with a real depth of feeling throughout.

The Promised Land by gunstreet Words: 58,260 @gunstreet

TOS. A story that explores the time Jim and Spock spent apart between the end of the 5 year mission and TMP. It’s a beautiful story of reunion and renewal of love. Sometimes achingly sad, but it’s worth it for the happy ending.

Again, if you've read any of these already then I'd love to hear your thoughts on whether you loved them as much as I did! 🥰

[theshamblewithsybles]

Reading the oldest known spirk fanfiction and absolutely losing my mind like this thing is batshit crazy. There is stuff in this that is insane to my modern fanfic reading sensibilities. The things she chose to describe in such detail baffle me

Here’s the link to the zine it was published in btw

It’s called The Ring of Soshern and was actually put in this zine(alien brothers,1987) without her permission or knowledge

Is it ethical to read something the author never had any intention for the public to see? Who knows? Not me! That’s for sure

[purple-iris]

Lines I'd write in a Star Trek fic if I ever wrote one:

Among Federation Space and even beyond, there was a well known saying that if you valued your current state of existence, you shouldn't come between a Vulcan and their bondmate.

On the U.S.S Enterprise, a similar saying had started going around, mostly in relation to away missions going south on unknown planets; If you value your life, don't come between Mr.Spock and the Captain.

[spongynova]

The pinup picture I had the delight to draw for a fandom event: Live Long And Pinup, we made not one but two calendars you can actually buy, one for Spock and one for Kirk

And go check the AWESOME fic written by @spocksbrainworms:

Thank you so much it goes well with the art!

You can also check the AO3 collection for more fics and all the artworks!

[ham103me]

Ok hear me out. We’ve all seen the comic with Spock on the porch in Iowa, he comments on the fact the corn is closer to the house than it was that morning, Jim just smiles and tells Spock to come in, we all know that one, yeah?

Now picture Jim convincing Spock to go on shore leave with him:

Jim: “You’ll get to study an unknown-to-science being!”

Spock: “On Earth? Jim, what creature is left on Earth that has not been thoroughly studied?”

Jim: “You’ll see! Just don’t whistle at night and don’t open the door after dark.”

(Jim clicks CONFIRM on a cabin in the woods in Appalachia)

One Terran month after their shore leave ends, a team from the VSA secures funding for the Appalachian, Earth Research Project. Classified.

I need a list of Appalachian cryptids to fanfic this out!

[schn-tgai-saavik]

Started writing the holiday S'chn T'gai-Kirk family fic, and 4k words in I've written about Kirk and Spock missing each other, Saavik seeing a deer and some angst flashback to her getting a fever a short time after being rescued from Hellguard, and mentioned the holidays ONCE-

[kryptonbabe]

Today is TOS Amok Time's 57th anniversary, officially Spirk Day so I'm honoring the date by reading a paper on how the ideas behind Kirk/Spock slash fanfiction articulate queer love in a way that makes it accessible to everyone, queer or not, and it is the most romantic paper I've read! Happy Spirk Day!

An excerpt of the text:

This paper argues that what the characters of Kirk and Spock represent is an archetypal pairing that transcends gender altogether. By reading K/S queerly and broadly, these gender distinctions become irrelevant. What matters are the characters themselves, and the unique qualities that make fan authors - straight, gay, indifferent - feel the need to pair them. Specifically, the Kirk/Spock pairing represents not a bonded pair, but a divided self. Sexuality, like the mindmeld, becomes a stand-in for the reunification spoken of in Aristophanes' tale of the Children of the Sun - two humans once whole separated and ever seeking their other half. The corporate caretakers of these characters have proven themselves, to a broad readership, unwilling to realize the "particular style of the 23rd century" as one in which queer love is acceptable love. And so, for close to forty years, an active and activist readership has been doing it for them through the creation of an aberrant folklore that they believe adheres more closely to the spirit of the narrative's utopian origins. It has fallen upon the fan to become creator, the reader to become the author, and the author to become active in the reuniting of this divided self.

From The Final Frontier Is Queer: Aberrancy, Archetype and Audience Generated Folklore in K/S Slashfiction (2005) by P. J. Falzone on @jstor

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

A Khan By Any Other Name

a prequel to Star Trek: Into Darkness

mystery, suspense, danger ~ romance & NSFW material to follow

summary: Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast as a torch singer in pubs, bars, and nightclubs. She knows how to take care of herself and stay out of trouble--most of the time. When trouble comes, it's usually because she lets her kind heart overrule her common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger stranded roadside in the Mojave Desert, her curiousity is piqued as much by his classic, mint-looking Mustang, as by its driver--a tall, dark, mysterious drink of water, whom she quickly learns is so much more than he appears.

characters: Khan Noonien Singh (aka: John Harrison), Seraphina DiPietro (OC)

words: 1.9k

Chapter Two

“Drop it now,” he repeated, with the sure authority of a man accustomed to having his orders obeyed, “And I promise I will not hurt you.”

Despite his iron grip, Seraphina struggled to pull her arm away, hissing through teeth gritted against the pain, “Won’t hurt me?  You’re hurting me now.”

Harrison’s hold on her arm loosened some; she was still tightly caught, but the pressure of his grasp, the pain, had receded a fair bit—although she knew she’d find dark, finger-shaped bruises there in short order.  If she even lived that long. “Forgive me,” he told her, his voice low and even, “I’d forgotten how fragile your bones can be.”

What an odd thing to say, she thought, straining for release from his clutch and realizing it was all too impossible; she was no match for his strength, and even if she could manage to trigger the mace, she had no sure way to aim it properly.  She felt desperate, frightened tears well up in her eyes, but squeezed her eyes shut against them—for she would not give her assailant the satisfaction of her despair, nor would she beg for mercy.

He must’ve read that quiet resignation on her face, for he tugged her fist close and covered it with his free hand, urging her to see reason, “You cannot win this struggle, Seraphina.  Your resistance is futile; surely you understand this?”  Harrison’s voice was silk persuasion, rich and dark and seductive—at complete odds with the very real threat he presented.  “I could easily break your wrist and prize your little weapon from your fingers—but I honestly have no desire to hurt you. Just let it go.”  And then, to her great surprise, he added, “Please.”

Blinking through the tears that fell against her will, tears that betrayed weakness when she wanted to be strong, Seraphina met his eyes again.  His beautiful, deadly eyes—and saw in them an unexpected sincerity that matched his gentle “please”.  She bowed her head and opened her fist, leaving her key and the can of mace to fall onto the passenger seat.

“There—that wasn’t so difficult after all, was it?”  Why was his voice so soothing?  Fear of what he might do to her next coursed through her veins, yet Seraphina thought she could easily crumple to the ground, curl up into a fetal ball, and let his voice see her into untroubled darkness.  The heat, the fear, the adrenaline, the struggle—all of it had sapped her of the will to face whatever might come next.  She’d always believed it wasn’t in her nature to fall apart so quickly, but she felt that way now, all the same.

True to his word, Harrison released her arm, but Seraphina remained in place, braced against the passenger side door, shaking in the aftermath and considering her very limited options. She might try to make it to her hovercraft, but the stranger now held her key; and even if she had the strength to run and the speed to outpace him, to flee into the desert at her back would be equally as brutal as anything he might do to her. She'd have to make her stand right here, then--and though she was no match for his size and strength, she knew enough to leave him hurting before he took her down for good.

Taking stock of her condition--mentally preparing to fight him off as best she could--Seraphina flexed her left wrist carefully, wincing as she explored her tender forearm with cautious fingers. Nothing broken at least, though she felt a bone-deep ache; but it would not be enough to hamper any effort to defend herself.

Strangely, Harrison was ignoring her at the moment; having retrieved her keychain, he had torn the can of mace free with no effort, before hurtling it carelessly into the desert. Seraphina had a vivid image of her own broken, half-naked body flung just as easily and left upon the sand for carrion-eaters to feast upon. She shoved the idea down deep, knowing such fear would only cripple her--and was immediately dumbfounded when he held the key out to her.

"Did I not say I have no wish to harm you?" Harrison's eyes bored into her own, searching for calm and reasoned understanding. "In spite of how it appears, we are equally vulnerable in this place and situation. We must find a way to trust one another. " Sera only continued to regard him warily. "Take this," he insisted, "If I judge you correctly, simple concern for a traveler in need motivated you to stop. And in keeping with your nature, I believe that you will not deny me the help that I need."

Sera studied his face, looking for signs of deception, skittish to trust him but accepting his peace offering nevertheless. "You lied," she said, defiant yet holding her anger at bay, "This car isn't yours..."

Harrison nodded, his full lips pressed together against a small placid smile, "I never claimed that it was..."

"It's stolen," she fumed, irritated with herself for allowing him to so easily mislead her when her first instinct had been correct after all.

"An act of desperation, I assure you..."

"Just as this was," she exclaimed, extending her bruised forearm to him, "I have to wonder what happens to people who truly stand in your way, Mr. Harrison. "

Unruffled by her outburst, Harrison closed his eyes a moment and breathed deeply. When he looked to her again, he was the picture of patience. "I swear I have no desire to cause you--or anyone else--harm. But you must understand, I am in dire straits and as we linger here, my family is in imminent danger." He paused, weighing the effect of his words upon her. "Such a thing will make a man act beyond the measures of polite society."

Seraphina narrowed her eyes, skeptical of his revelation of a family, but suspending her disbelief for the moment, "How then? What sort of danger is your family in?"

"Their very lives hang in the balance, threatened by a powerful man who seeks to manipulate me into working for him." Embers of hate flashed in his eyes, and he gave a bitter huff as he added, "Forcing me to work toward the most nefarious of purposes."

Sera shook her head, clearing the double vision that had crept up on her; she cupped a trembling hand against her forehead, which came away slick with perspiration. It was the heat getting to her, obviously. She felt parched, although the thought of putting anything into her roiling stomach left her feeling even more nauseous, and her head was pounding in time with her racing pulse. She needed to get out of the goddamn heat before she collapsed from heat exhaustion--while the man before her looked completely unaffected by the desert climate. "And...and I suppose this mysterious man is so powerful that you can't seek help from the proper authorities?" Sera leaned all her weight against the car door, wondering if Harrison had noticed her current state of distress.

If he did, he gave no sign of it, a mix of pain and rancor coloring his strikingly handsome features. "So powerful that it would be in your best interest to remain ignorant as to his identity and position." Anticipating her next question, he warned her, "Do not ask--for I cannot reveal that information."

Though stymied by his vague replies--and sensing a much more complicated tale behind what he'd already admitted to--Sera read blunt honesty in his voice and body language. And the fact that he had willingly returned her key while asking for--rather than demanding--her help, seemed a testament to some underlying truth. She realized that she likely had only a few more minutes until she passed out, leaving her completely at Harrison's mercy. "Then how...how did you end up here, stranded in the Mojave," Sera asked, panting softly, "How does any of this help your family?"

He was watching her closely now, so that he had to aware that she was fading fast. "That is a rather long and complicated tale, Seraphina." His voice had again taken on a lulling pitch. "One which I believe would outlast your capacity to remain on your feet."

She held on to the window frame, white-knuckled but determined to remain upright long enough to learn his hidden agenda. "I'm fine...I...I'm just a little light-headed..."

"Step aside now, Seraphina." Again, that tone of a man whose orders were obeyed without question. "You have little time left before you lose consciousness." His hand was already on the door handle, and she stumbled back in time for him to swing the door open.

Then he was looming over her, a tall, cooling shadow, reaching out to brace her. His touch this time was firm, while surprisingly gentle. "We need to get you out of this heat." Unexpected concern in is stunning eyes, calming concern in his voice. The man was a beautiful enigma.

"No...please...tell me. If...if you want me to trust you..." Her world was darkening around the edges, narrowing so that only his face remained in her field of vision. "If you want me to help...I need...I need to know..." Seraphina felt herself going, and as her consciousness fled, so did her fear and curiousity; only one need remained. She sobbed against him as he scooped her up into his arms, "But you promised...you promised not to hurt me again..." Her eyes fluttered shut as she slipped away from awareness.

Harrison strode swiftly towards her hovercraft, cradling her as softly as he could, knowing that the cool, dark interior was the quickest remedy at hand for what ailed her. "Oh, pretty little Seraphina," he murmured, brushing his lips against her dampened hair, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine and honey, relishing how light and easy she felt in his arms. "Hurting you is the least likely thing I have planned."

(to be continued)

If you enjoyed this, please reblog ~ it's the only way others can see this work.💟

tagging: @icytrickster17 @ironstrange1991 @strangelockd @groovy-lady @aphroditesdilemma @stewardofningishzida @battledress @mousedetective @dearmrsstephenstrange @lorelei-lee @mckiwi @shinebrightlikeafanbase @cumberbatchitis @doctorhelm @strangeflashholmes221 @prulock @stargirl-designs @hajile10 @dancingmushu @iloveavengersblog @fireonmybones @osugahunnyicedtea @brayleigh14

(There were a few more blogs that I tried to tag based on the response to chapter one, but tumblr's messed up url search function kept telling me 'no blog found'🤨)

[alestra18]

Looking for a Star Trek fic where I believe the enterprise is caught in a weird storm, or Jim is, either way Jim is sent back into the past when the Augments were in top power at the time. Khan finds Jim and somehow knows he has his blood in him. I believe it was on AO3. If anyone knows the name of it, I would be forever grateful!

[kimberius]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cv98RQEJoCd/?igshid=NmQ4MjZlMjE5YQ==

[spirk-trek]

As I Do Thee Fanzine | Deeb, 1989

[celestialvoyeur]

💛💙SPIRK FIC REC💙💛

A lovely TOS novella length fic. The captain is dying of oxygen deprivation on a barren planet. Unable to save him, Spock mind melds with him for comfort, only to find that Jim’s hypoxic mind is already comforting itself with beautiful fantasies… of Spock as his lover and bondmate.

[adoctornotatumbl-r]

it’s so fucking evil that i have to go to work when all i wanna do is write fan fiction about the most annoying ass throuple in the universe