DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2022 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.

We'll Meet Again

by Djinn

 

Part 1:

 

Chapel was making her way through the underbrush that supposedly led to a breathtaking beach. She was by herself because she hadn't been in the mood to do any of the things her friends had planned during a stopover at this remarkable play-world while multiple captains went to a conference in the huge convention center.

 

All her friends except Spock, who was on Vulcan with T'Pring. Doing some kind of engagement thing.

 

She would go to her grave saying it didn't hurt if anyone asked her how she felt about it. But it did. It wasn't logical; she knew that. He'd been with T'Pring when they met and nothing had changed.

 

Even if she'd come to feel so strongly for him. Even if she knew he felt strongly back—he'd come to tell her he'd be away on Vulcan as if it was something he had to apologize for.

 

It wasn't. It never would be. No matter how much she might wish that weren't the case.

 

She pushed through the last of the bushes and saw spread out before her one of the most beautiful beaches she'd ever seen.

 

But she wasn't alone; a man stood ankle deep in the surf. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit."

 

The man turned. "Hi." He sounded as not thrilled that she was there as she felt at seeing him.

 

"Hi." The polite thing would be to turn around and let him have the beach. But damn it all—she'd braved all kinds of insects to get in her. She gently brushed off a spider intent on making its way from her shorts to her leg, then stepped out onto the sand. "So, are you leaving soon?"

 

"No. Are you planning just to pop in and then skedaddle?" He had a great voice, the kind that could make "skedaddling" sound perfectly reasonable.

 

"Nope." She walked out to the water. "I wasn't expecting anyone to be here."

 

"Same." Hazel eyes. She was a sucker for those. "So, what do you suggest we do?"

 

"We could rock-paper-scissors for who gets the beach." She knew her smile was way too friendly, but she liked his way of being. He was good looking, but he wasn't hitting on her. He was here first but not being an ass about it.

 

And his smile, when he said, "Or we could share it. You go that way, I go this way?" was amazing.

 

"Divide and conquer?"

 

"Yeah." He was meeting her eyes fearlessly.

 

She didn't look away. "Or we could share it a more traditional way."

 

"Like this?" He held his arm out as if an old-time gentleman at some kind of cotillion.

 

She was charmed so she took his arm and they set off down the beach, but a moment later she let go so she could kick off her sandals and run into the water, up to her knees. "Oh, my God, it's the perfect temp."

 

"I know. I was testing it out for swimming when you showed up." He tossed his sandals into the dry sand. "I will if you will?"

 

She didn't even have to ask him what he meant, just began pulling her top and shorts off and tossing them past the water mark. Her underwear was regulation black and didn't show anything more than a bikini would.

 

His was too. So he was Fleet. He took her hand and they ran into the water together, then let go of each other to shallow dive once it was safe, coming up a few meters apart.

 

"I'm Jim," he said, shaking wet hair out of his eyes.

 

"Christine."

 

"Nice to meet you." He turned on his back and floated.

 

She began to swim, the way she'd been taught by an eccentric surf teacher, like a dolphin, minimal splashing, maximum glide. But damn, her core was so out of shape for this. She came up laughing and breathing hard.

 

He was still floating. She liked so much that he wasn't hitting on her or trying to race her. He was just doing what he'd probably have been doing without her here.

 

She kicked her way back to shore and sat cross-legged in the shallows, waves knocking her around until she found the calm the same teacher had taught her, the ability to center on shifting sand.

 

He swam closer. "I've never seen you before."

 

"You remember everyone you've seen?"

 

"I have a good memory for faces. Also I taught at the Academy so I know a lot of the new officers."

 

"I'm a contractor."

 

"Ah, that explains it. What kind?"

 

"Scientific. Biochem. Stanford. MIT before that."

 

His face clouded. "You must know Doctor Marcus then?"

 

"By reputation only. My track wasn't in hers and rumor was she refused to teach the general undergrad classes."

 

He laughed but it was a slightly bitter sound. "That sounds like Carol." He floated a little closer. "So which ship?"

 

"Enterprise. You?"

 

"Farragut."

 

"Do you like it?"

 

"I do. I love the stars."

 

"How can you see them at warp?" She grinned at his look. "Tell me I'm wrong. They're just a stream."

 

"You're not wrong. But you know what I mean."

 

"Yeah. I do." She studied him; she had a good memory for faces too but it was more force of habit than innate. It helped her in her work to categorize the parts of faces that made a species what it was. The different variables within those features. He was one of the lucky ones. So handsome.

 

"Do I meet with your approval?" He was laughing at her.

 

"Depends. What happens if I say yes?"

 

"What do you want to happen?"

 

She smiled without meaning to. A wide delighted smile. Because most people would have said, "dinner and dancing" or "a night to remember" or some other tired pick-up line. Or they might have gone right in for a kiss if they were really ballsy.

 

"I'd like to get to know you better." Shit. Where had that come from? That was not in the Chapel-approved "No Commitment" playbook. "Within reason, of course."

 

"Wow, and the gold medal for backpedaling goes to..." He was laughing as he moved to float next to her, legs facing out toward the open water. "Gun shy?"

 

"Just not a fan of things that linger on past the point they should."

 

"Little bit harsh but okay." He leaned back, not trying to hold himself in the current, bumping against her occasionally but she could tell it wasn't on purpose. He'd just given himself over to the sea, and the sea was sending him her way.

 

"Did you want more than that?" she asked, trying not to sound harsh.

 

"Yes, let's get married and settle down and have six kids." He was grinning as he said it. "I was thinking of this clambake I was told is great that's at one of the resorts near here." His eyes were closed. "I'm going whether you want to or not."

 

"I like clams."

 

"Okay." Clearly, he was not taking anything for granted, but the gorgeous grin just got bigger.

 

She splashed him gently and he laughed. "I would not mind attending said clambake with you."

 

"You sure? I don't want you to break out in hives at the idea you have long-term plans." He was laughing as he said it, like he cracked himself up even if she didn't find it funny.

 

She loved that. She loved that kind of confidence. "I'm a nurse when I'm not being a geneticist. I can fix hives."

 

"So we're on for clams. And the dress code is beachwear so we're all set." He bumped up against her again and opened his eyes to look at her. "Is that bugging you because I can move farther away?"

 

"Or stop floating."

 

"Nyah, feels too good to float."

 

"You really don't like being attached to the ground, do you?"

 

He got very still and then nodded. "You're not wrong." He made a face she couldn't read. "Been with women for months who never figured that out."

 

"Well, I'm not just any woman."

 

"So I'm beginning to see."

 

She heard buzzing and said, "Is that your communicator?"

 

"Oh, shit." He was up and running, no wasted motion and she allowed herself to admire his lovely body. "Kirk here."

 

"You're needed for a panel discussion in an hour."

 

"I'm on leave." But he was already pulling his clothes on. "Just give me a moment, okay?"

 

She got up and walked to him. "Which resort?"

 

"I'll try my best, but once you get pulled into one of these conferences, you never get out."

 

She'd been to academic conferences like that. She knew he wasn't just brushing her off. "Okay. But I'm still going. I'm hungry for clams now. Which resort?"

 

"The Delavian. At sunset—it seemed pretty informal as to time." He pushed her hair off her face gently. "You know my last name. Can I know yours?"

 

"Chapel."

 

He started to laugh.

 

"What?"

 

"Kirk means church in Scotland. We're very religious together." His grin was infectious, the way his eyes sparkled even more so.

 

"Should we pray, then, for your successful escape from the clutches of the conference goers?"

 

"Nyah. I'm sort of the opposite of religious."

 

"Me too." She finger-combed his hair into place. "Best be going, Mister Kirk."

 

"I hope I make it back down. Because we're shipping out tomorrow."

 

"Us too."

 

They just stood there, smiling at each other like two idiots, until his communicator sounded again. "Jeez, talk about a mood killer."

 

She backed up.

 

"Kirk here. Ready to transport." He winked at her as he disappeared.

 

She wasn't sure if she should be relieved or disappointed. This guy...way beyond yummy. She thought he had hidden depths.

 

Which was something she normally ran like hell from.

 

Well, the fates would decide if he showed up for the clambake or not.

 

In the meantime, she was going to enjoy this amazing beach.

 

##

 

Kirk stepped through the Delavian lobby and went out to the beach, looking for Christine. She shouldn't be hard to find if she'd really ended up coming—and she wasn't. He saw a tall woman with white-blonde hair talking to a group of really attractive people. She looked perfectly at ease, laughing in a way he liked—natural, not fake. He maneuvered so he was within her line of sight and admired how her hair had dried into beach waves.

 

He grinned when she saw him, and his smile grew when she excused herself—to the obvious dismay of several of the people in the group—and walked over to him. "Hi, Christine."

 

"Hi yourself, Jim. Glad to see you made it in time for the food." She took his arm and led him to the bar.

 

"Can I get you a refill?"

 

"Mmm, yes please. Rye rocks."

 

"I love a woman who drinks whiskey." He ordered her a refill and got the same for himself. Then lifted his glass. "So, I have a really weird thing to toast."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Yeah. Up at the conference, your captain wanted to talk to me."

 

"Lucky you. He's awesome."

 

"So I've heard through the grapevine." He shook his head, still sort of pinching himself. "He's apparently in need of a first officer."

 

"Seriously?" She seemed...tentatively happy. "And you said yes?"

 

"I'm not going to cramp your style, if that's what you're worried about." He took a quick drink, abandoning the idea of clinking glasses.

 

"Hey, no, it's not that." She pushed her glass to his and gently touched it. "Congratulations. But, do you know why there's an opening?"

 

"I do."

 

"Did Pike tell you about it or did you hear it through the rumor mill?"

 

"Both."

 

"Did the captain tell you he'll probably do everything in his power to get his old first officer back?"

 

"Maybe."

 

"And you're taking it anyway?" She frowned and studied him. "Are you betting she won't be released so it's a moot point or do you plan to retire gracefully to some other ship?"

 

He laughed. "If he puts in a good word for me, I could be reassigned to some other ship as first officer. Or I'd stay and take over the beta shift."

 

"I never really considered there must be like two other captain-ish people, right?" She frowned. "Why isn't the first officer in charge of beta, if it's the next most important shift?"

 

"They're all important shifts."

 

"But alpha's what everyone wants."

 

"It's the one that's most synced up with headquarters. Theoretically." He laughed. It took an outsider to shine a light on things that might not make sense one you got off the planet. "Three watches—it's just how it's always been on ships. Only the ships used to be on Earth where it made sense to want to be alpha shift."

 

"So you'd essentially be the captain of beta shift if she came back?"

 

"Yes." He laughed. "Do you think she will?"

 

"I haven't been on the ship that long so I'm sort of spitballing here. Captain Pike can seem really mellow, but there's a total 'no man left behind' vibe underneath."

 

"I know. There's a pool on the Farragut."

 

"On whether she gets out? That's really heartless." Then she leaned in. "What'd you pick."

 

"That he'd have her out in a year." He shrugged when she made a face—probably at how long that was. "The gears of justice grind slowly. Especially in this kind of case. So many precedents will ride on it."

 

"True. The nature of augmentation. I have a personal interest in this."

 

"You're friends with her?"

 

"No, I mean in genetic experimentation. The work I do..."

 

"Wait, are you the super-secret disguise maker?" He pitched his voice really low. "I love brilliant scientists."

 

"Well, who doesn't?" She pretended to zip her lips. "Once you're on board, you can ask me all about it. Until then...'fraid not."

 

"Discreet."

 

"Yep. Also I signed stuff that said I wouldn't." She winked at him and he found himself increasingly charmed by her: she could make security shit fun.

 

A really annoying bell began to ring and someone from the hotel stood up on a bench and made a big deal about how to eat clams. He wasn't sure which of them rolled their eyes harder. Then they joined the line of people dishing up their trays. "So, will I like the ship?"

 

She shot him a look that made him laugh. "Will you like the flagship of the whole freaking fleet? Gee...?"

 

"Okay, yes, this is my dream ship. Will I like being on the ship with you?"

 

She shrugged in a mischievously mysterious way.

 

"Well, I for one am glad we're meeting now. I'll know someone."

 

She narrowed her eyes. "You'll know a lot of someones. You said you taught lots of them."

 

"Wow, you really listen."

 

"Wasn't I supposed to?"

 

"Sure, but a lot of times people don't."

 

"Well, yeah, because you're so cute." She grinned in an adorable way. "But fortunately for you, so am I. So I was not thrown off by your megawatt grin or pretty, pretty eyes."

 

"Right back at you." He handed her a tray and once they were loaded up, followed her to a two-person table. "So maybe what I was really asking was if there's someone on the ship who wouldn't be thrilled you're having dinner with me?"

 

"Again, once you're on the ship, all will be revealed..."

 

He burst out laughing. "Fine. I report in three days."

 

Her smile was genuine, her eyes crinkling, her cheeks turning just the slightest bit pink. "I don't hate that idea."

 

"Me neither."

 

##

 

Spock found himself anticipating seeing Christine in the mess as he walked in for dinner. He scanned the room, sure that this was the normal time she ate, and Ortegas and Uhura were in a booth, but there was no sign of her.

 

Uhura seemed to realize who he was looking for because she subtly pointed over to a table on the far side of the mess, where Christine was sitting with her back to him, eating with...who?

 

A male.

 

A handsome male as humans went.

 

A male Spock had seen before somewhere, but he could not place the face.

 

A male who was laughing and who, by the way she was moving, was making Christine laugh as well.

 

Spock realized his hands were clenched and forced himself to relax. He got his meal and debated walking to their table to introduce himself but decided that would be overly intrusive.

 

Who Christine ate with was her business.

 

He ignored the signs Uhura, but not Ortegas, was making for him to join them and headed for the section that was still open. He had to walk by Christine and this new officer—a lieutenant commander—but he did it quickly, as if he had not seen them, and took a booth beyond, with his back to them.

 

He'd barely started eating when the man slid into the seat across from him without asking permission first. "I'm sorry to disturb your meal, Lieutenant Spock."

 

"Then do not."

 

"I really would rather not, but my new friend Christine tells me that my brother Sam may have been a real ass to you. Since I'm taking over as first officer, I wanted to apologize for him and let you know that you're not going to get that kind of thing from me. I know what it's like to be bullied."

 

This was the face on the screen when he had talked to the captain, the day Number One was arrested. Why would the captain have been looking at it? Had he known she would be taken and was already selecting her replacement? He felt his hackles rise even more. "Your brother was disrespectful but he has not bullied</i > me."

 

"Okay, good. Because being bullied sucks." He frowned and said, "Let me start over. I'm Jim Kirk. And I'm looking forward to working with you."

 

"Welcome to the ship." He knew his tone lacked any real note of welcome.

 

"I know Number One was popular. I respect how weird this is."

 

"Do you? And yet you interrupt the dinner of her protégé to make it even more so...?"

 

Kirk slid out of the booth. "I really do look forward to working with you. I'm sorry about Commander Chin-Reilly—if the number of official scanners and checks she must have gone through over the years couldn't tell she was augmented, how augmented can she really be? I also understand your and many others' preference is to have her back in place of, well, me." He smiled in a way Spock decided was so brilliant it had to be calculated. "Part of me hopes she does come back."

 

"But the other part does not?"

 

"This is a great posting on the best ship with the finest crew." He sounded sincere. Not as if he was trying to win Spock over.

 

"It is. I am relieved you appreciate that. I also understand your position is awkward. It is good you have Nurse Chapel to help you acclimate." How much of her did he have and when had they met? Was he one of her conquests of the moments? He had witnessed several and how casually she related to them. When Kirk walked back to her, he would be able to judge the seriousness of their relationship by the sincerity—and shyness—of her smile.

 

"Well, and I know a lot more of the crew than you might think. I was at the Academy before the Farragut."

 

"Ah."

 

"Christine's just a bonus." Kirk gave him the kind of smile a man did not give to someone he considered a rival.

 

And Spock was not a rival. Spock was betrothed to T'Pring. He and she had just spent a week together on Vulcan, attending many social events celebrating—in a properly logical way—their impending union.

 

He should not be wanting to challenge the man for his woman, when Christine was not and never would be his woman.

 

"I'll see you on the bridge tomorrow, Spock." Kirk turned and walked back to Christine.

 

Who gave him the kind of smile she normally gave Spock. Not the one she gave her men of the moment. The shy one where she looked down. The one he thought was his alone.

 

Then she looked over at him and before he could think better of it, he motioned for her to come over.

 

It pleased him that she did, and that she did it with alacrity. That she slid into the booth rather than standing over him, that she leaned forward with her normal effervescent smile and said, "What's up?"

 

"Is his company welcome?"

 

"Jim's?" She looked very confused.

 

He nodded. "I would not want him using his position to make you...interact with him."

 

"I met him last week. His ship was at the conference too. There was a beach. We had fun. He's fun. Why do you care?" She looked even more confused.

 

"I do not. If you wish to be with him, it is, of course, none of my business. I just did not want you to think he could force you into anything. You are not Fleet and may not be aware of—"

 

"Spock, stop. He came over to you to apologize for his asshole brother's behavior because I told him about it. He was concerned. He took care of it. Like a good guy. Because he is one. Why are you now being an asshole about him?"

 

"I am not the asshole." He was hoping she would find that amusing.

 

She did not appear to. "Could've fooled me. Now, did you actually need anything because my dinner's getting cold?"

 

"No. I am sorry I interrupted your meal."

 

"I'll meet you for breakfast tomorrow, okay? You can tell me all about Vulcan and T'Pring and getting raging drunk with all your Vulcan buddies." She rolled her eyes at the last part and he felt relief. If she was teasing him, she could not be too annoyed.

 

"I look forward to it."

 

She was gone and back to Kirk. He did not turn to watch her go, but he had—perhaps subconsciously—chosen a location within range of Vulcan hearing and heard Kirk ask, "Everything okay?" and she responded, "Oh, yeah, we're working on a science thing."

 

This was a lie. He had to bite back a smile of satisfaction. There was no reason to lie.

 

"What kind of science thing?" Kirk asked.

 

"I can't say."

 

Again, another lie.

 

Although Spock had a meeting with the captain later in the evening. Chris had said it was about Number One and was off the record—kind of. It would make sense for Christine to be part of the scientific section of Number One's legal defense if Chris was helping to mount it. It would make sense for Spock, as science officer, to work with her.

 

Perhaps she had not lied at all. Perhaps he lacked information.

 

Suddenly uncomfortable with being in hearing range, he surreptitiously hit a key combination on his communicator and it rang out, "Lieutenant Spock, please report to auxiliary duty station."

 

He rose and took his tray with him, nodding at Kirk and Christine as he passed.

 

"What's his auxiliary station?" he heard Kirk ask.

 

"Somewhere in the bowels of the science department, he has an office where he does reports and gives people evals. His primary station is on the bridge."

 

She had been with him at a party he had not wanted to attend when he had used this ploy. She had asked the same thing as Kirk. They were alike in that way. Usually people did not pry.

 

He took the tray to his office and tried not to think how quickly she had turned back to Kirk as he passed. Or how brightly she had smiled as she did so.

 

##

 

Kirk sat with his brother at breakfast, trying to figure out exactly what was going on with the Vulcan—who clearly did not like him—and Christine. He didn't like to mess in another man's nest but she hadn't said she was seriously involved with anyone.

 

Then again, she hadn't said she wasn't either.

 

But there was just something about the way she smiled at Kirk that said she sincerely liked him. He was good at reading people and he had a bit of a reputation because of it. But he knew the difference between a "how about a night?" smile and a "hey, you seem really amazing" smile, and in his experience, the latter didn't happen all that often.

 

Carol, Janet, then Ruth during his academy days. People might have been surprised that he hadn't had a long-term girlfriend in his teens but when you come back from living through a massacre at thirteen, it takes a while to trust and to learn to reach out again.

 

"So did you apologize to him for me?" Sam asked as he poured more syrup on his waffles.

 

"You should have done it."

 

"Yeah, I know. Seemed easier to just forget it."

 

It always did with Sam. He'd say the jerk thing and then move on. But people didn't move on in tandem. They remembered. They especially remembered when they met Sam's little brother, who they assumed would also be an ass.

 

"What's the story with him and Christine?"

 

"Chapel? God, she hates me."

 

"I didn't ask what the story was with you and her."

 

Sam laughed. "Right. Sorry. Well, that's such a good question, actually. Pretty sure our pointy-eared boy is engaged."

 

It never ceased to amaze Kirk that his brother could be such a bigot at times and also interested in xenoanthropology. Sam was a walking contradiction. Sam's wife used to joke to Kirk that "My darling husband only opens his mouth to change feet" and it was so often true.

 

"Okay, so he's told you that?"

 

"Nope. He pretty much ignores me. But one day when he was off duty, I noticed he was wearing this necklace that betrothed Vulcans often wear. And then another time there was this Vulcan woman on board so I, uh, may have sat close to them when they were eating so I could listen in."

 

"Sam, Jesus."

 

"Nobody knows anything, Jim, about how their relationships really work. Do you know how empty the files are? I'm not planning on adding anything to those files, but I do have scholarly curiosity. It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to witness a romantic relationship in action. It was also super boring, as it turned out, because Vulcans apparently enjoy a lot of long silences during their meals."

 

"Serves you right." He laughed. He always laughed at his brother's stupid escapades. He turned back to watching Christine with Spock. She was laughing. This Vulcan was funny? He'd seen no evidence of that last night. Just him curtly waving her over to his table—truth be told, Kirk hadn't loved how fast Christine had gotten up and gone to him. Or that her face lit up for Spock the same way it did for him.

 

Then again it might light up that way for anyone. He barely knew her. He was going off one swim, a clambake and a long walk on the beach after dinner a week ago as well as dinner last night for his idea of her.

 

But they hadn't slept together after the clambake—and he thought that was as significant for her as it was for him. It meant that, just maybe, this could be more.

 

Or was he projecting?

 

He saw her bop Spock upside the head and all the Vulcan did was pat his hair back into place. "Does he let everyone hit him like that?"

 

"Uh, no. And that's why it's so confusing. They get together like they are now and it's like a bubble goes up. Not for the rest of us; we can all see what's going on. But for them—like the rest of the world just disappears.

 

Well, that sounded problematic.

 

"She's super nice, though. Or she was until I insulted him. So she may just have found a way to break through to his human side."

 

Kirk frowned. "What?"

 

"Oh, yeah, he's half human. I thought you'd read in on personnel?"

 

"I did. I didn't read down to the personal for him." Which he always did for anyone else. He'd seen "Vulcan" under species and assumed.

 

Bad, bad mistake, One he would not make again. "Half human. Is that common?"

 

"No, it is not."

 

"And his fiancée is full Vulcan?"

 

"Far as I could tell." Sam grabbed Kirk's empty coffee cup and his own and said, "I need more. Be right back."

 

While he was in line at the coffee station, Christine and Spock got up and she lingered while the Vulcan headed right out. She talked to a lot of people, her smile bright, and she touched quite a few of them—on the shoulder, on the hand. Nothing inappropriate. Just her. She'd done it to him during the clambake and their walk.

 

Maybe she was just tactile. Maybe she was just so damned charming Spock couldn't bring himself to tell her to stop? Maybe his human half even enjoyed it?

 

She saw him sitting alone and walked over. "Hey you."

 

"Hey you." He knew his smile was goofily big.

 

But her own was too. "First day jitters?"

 

"Honestly, little bit, yeah." He loved that he could be honest with her. She never seemed to judge.

 

"You'll be great. And if you're not, I know you'll make it right in no time. You seem like the kind of guy who owns up to his mistakes."

 

"I am. I'm also a guy who's kind of blunt sometimes. You and Spock seem tight. Should I back off?"

 

"Because of him?" She sounded truly surprised. "He's engaged."

 

"Oh."

 

"We're just friends." But her voice was off. "Maybe if circumstances were different... But we're just friends."

 

"So you don't want me to back off?"

 

"I really don't."

 

He saw Sam coming back and got up so he could walk her to the exit and have some privacy. "Would you use a guy to make another guy jealous?" he asked once they were out in the corridor.

 

"Would I use Spock to make you jealous?" Again she seemed confused.

 

"No, other way around. You trying to get him to break his engagement by making him realize how much he doesn't like seeing you with me?"

 

"I'm really not. But if you think I'd do something like that, maybe you should back off."

 

He touched her arm and gave her the most gentle smile he had. "Sometimes we do things and don't realize we're doing them."

 

"I don't play games. It's one reason I like him so much as a friend. Vulcans are honest."

 

"I'm honest too. If I weren't, I'd be wondering about this in silence instead of just asking." He realized he was coming on awfully strong with a woman he'd just met who didn't seem a fan of commitment. "But you know what? It's none of my fucking business. And we just met so where do I come off anyway?" He gave her a sheepish grin.

 

"No, it's good you're honest. I do value that." She sighed. "I uh... I haven't had the best luck in romance. Sex, sure. Romance, love, relationships? Not so much."

 

"Same, actually."

 

"Then let's promise we'll be honest. And maybe our luck will change. Even if it doesn't, that's a good way to make a lasting friend." She touched his cheek and he pressed into her hand. "Have a good day, Jim." He loved how she said his name, how her eyes met his so unwaveringly.

 

"You too."

 

##

 

Chapel turned around in the lab as she ran numbers on Number One and her genetic makeup and nearly ran into Spock, who was hovering over her.

 

Again.

 

"Do you think this is the most efficient way to work on this?" She glanced up at his face, trying to read him. "Wouldn't it be more logical for you to find your own task?" She'd never worked with him on a science project before. Was this how Vulcans worked? Constantly overseeing each other? Didn't seem very efficient or logical.

 

He nodded. "It would." He still didn't move so she turned back to the terminal—wait, was he smelling her hair as he stood behind her?

 

Could he get any weirder?

 

He reached around, keying something in. His arm rubbed against hers as he did it.

 

Yes—yes, he could get weirder.

 

"Spock, I have to leave early. I know it's our first night working on this, but I have a thing."

 

"I also have a 'thing.' So I understand."

 

She wondered if they had the same thing. Hers was Captain's Dinner to welcome Jim. The captain had apparently asked Jim to pick six people to include. She'd been one of them.

 

"I am going to a dinner for the new first officer." Spock said into the silence.

 

"First of all, he has a name. Second, you don't tell people that. It makes them feel left out to know there's a Captain's Dinner and they're not invited."

 

"I regret I made you feel left out."

 

"That was general advice. I'm going, so..."

 

"Oh. I assumed it would just be section heads."

 

Wow, way to make her feel insignificant. She glared at him. "I'm on the VIP list, toots."

 

"I do not understand."

 

"Jim asked for me. And five other people. The captain let him have input on the guest list."

 

"I see. Who are the other five?"

 

"How should I know? And you'll know in"—she glanced at the chrono on the wall—"an hour." She hoped Jim hadn't included his brother. She really didn't like him.

 

Then again, if she ended up continuing to get close to Jim, she'd probably have to learn to like Sam. Families came with boyfriends.

 

Which was yet another reason she tended to avoid having one.

 

Spock was too close behind her again—and he was smelling her hair. She spun the stool around rapidly to take him by surprise and said, "What's going on?"

 

He didn't even back up. What was wrong with him? "Can I not welcome being back in your presence?"

 

"Of course you can, but you don't normally take big whiffs of my hair while you do it." She let her mouth drop open, remembering what Jim had asked at breakfast. "Oh my God, are you smelling me to see if I've been with him?"

 

He did back up. Very, very fast. "Of course not. I just...enjoy the smell of your shampoo. It is new, is it not?"

 

It was actually. She'd gotten a small bottle at a gift shop at the Delavian while she was waiting for the clambake to start before people had started congregating. She loved the scent and had ordered more of it.

 

"The one you used before was comprised of more green scents. This is floral. It reminds me of a jasmine my mother grows—or tries to: it is a difficult plant to master in harsh terrain—in her garden on Vulcan."

 

"Vulcans have super keen senses of smell, don't you?"

 

"We do."

 

"So you could smell my shampoo from across the room, right?"

 

He looked uncomfortable that she'd caught him out.

 

"Why stand so close?"

 

"We often stand close." He looked almost hurt. "Think back, Christine. I allow you a great deal of latitude when it comes to how we interact."

 

He wasn't wrong.

 

But he also didn't usually sniff her goddamn hair. She reached behind her to turn off the terminal and slid off the stool. "I think that's enough for tonight. Maybe, during dinner while you're bored and not laughing at funny stories, you can consider which task you'd like to take charge of. I'm not working with you hovering this way."

 

He grabbed her as she tried to get past him, his flesh on hers.

 

"You are angry." Was he reading her or just stating the obvious? "And confused." He let her go. "I am sorry. I...I will not hover in the future."

 

"Are you jealous?" she asked in a very small voice. She didn't want to know this—and she did.

 

"I am." At her look, he said, "You have stated you value my honesty. I am being honest. It is illogical to care what a woman who is not my future bondmate does. But I do. That is truth."

 

They stood there in silence, so close, gazes unrelenting, and she realized she had to get out of the lab. Before he kissed her—or she kissed him. Because there was something in his eyes. Something dark and intent—and wanting.

 

She backed away slowly. "I'll see you at the dinner."

 

"I have made you uncomfortable. I regret that too." He looked down.

 

"We're friends, Spock. Sometimes friends have to figure out where the boundaries are."

 

"The boundaries are where they have always been." He sounded very bitter.

 

"That's not my fault. I wasn't the one on Vulcan with his goddamned fiancée when maybe he would have rather been with someone else." Oh, shit, had she really just said that?

 

But he didn't get mad, barely reacted at all. Just stared at her helplessly. "I know. As I said: it is not logical. But it is the truth."

 

She fled before she—or he—could share any other confusing truths.

 

##

 

Kirk walked Christine back to their quarters after what had been a very fun dinner. Other than when Sam and Spock had gotten into a sort of argument—he wasn't even sure what it had been about really and their voices had never been raised past normal conversational levels as they bounced insults disguised as facts back and forth like a tennis ball. They definitely rubbed each other the wrong way. Fortunately, their disagreement had been before most of the other guests arrived. Pike had been too busy getting food ready with Ortegas to notice—or so Kirk hoped.

 

"You want a nightcap?" he asked Christine. "I have rye."

 

"Yeah." She seemed so pensive. And she'd stayed clear of both him and Spock at dinner when she chose her seat. He didn't think that was by accident. Her laughter had been real, though, when they were all at the counter and the stories were funny, which most of them were.

 

Even if you'd never know by Spock's stone face.

 

He wasn't sure he saw the "outstanding officer" Pike seemed so high on. But he'd give it time.

 

Once they got in his quarters, he fixed her a rye rocks the way she liked but decided he'd go with his favorite scotch neat.

 

As he handed her the drink, he asked, "Are you okay?"

 

"Sure." But her eyes told a different story.

 

"Are you going to be mad if I say I don't believe you?"

 

"No, I'll say you're perceptive. Maybe too perceptive." She closed her eyes. "I can't say I value honesty and not be honest."

 

He led her to his couch and took the chair to give her space. "What do you need to tell me?"

 

"I'm a little in love with Spock."

 

"Yeah, I may have figured that out on my own." He cocked his head and studied her. "Do you believe you can only love one person in this life?"

 

"No, actually. But I also believe it's wrong to go into something potentially really, really good without admitting that the person I also love is on the same goddamned ship."

 

He laughed. "Yeah, that's a fun wrinkle."

 

She looked so happy at his easy reply. Did she think he'd be eaten up with jealousy? No one came without other loves. Some came with bigger ones than others but he'd yet to meet anyone who didn't have "the one who got away" somewhere in their history.

 

She leaned in. "Do you want to keep going with...us?" Her voice was so soft and she wasn't looking at him.

 

He moved over to the couch and tipped her chin up so she had to look at him. "I do. Do you?"

 

She nodded.

 

"Words, Chapel. I like words."

 

"I do. I really like you. I don't normally really like the men I sleep with. I mean obviously there's something there to attract, but I don't want to get to know them better. And you I do."

 

"Ditto." He pushed her hair back and ran his hands down her neck to her back, pulling her a little closer. "You make me smile. You make me feel good about myself. You're fun and people like you. So one of them—or maybe more—of those people are in love with you? It happens."

 

"But if there are any others, I'm not in love with them too."

 

"I'll always love Carol. Some part of me. The part of me that doesn't hate her for keeping my son from me." He smiled ruefully at her look of surprise. "See, I have fun new facts too."

 

Her look was instantly supportive and compassionate. "I'm sorry about your son."

 

"Yeah, me too. And I'm sorry you can't have Spock. But you know what? You could if he wasn't an idiot. Or if he loved you enough. I'm not sure which. If you think he's changing his mind about where he's going with his life—if you think he'll break off his engagement—then we'll just be friends. And you can be happy with the man you loved first."

 

"He's not breaking off his engagement, Jim. I think he'll always try to have the best of both worlds."

 

"You deserve better than that."

 

She didn't answer, just took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He realized she was trying not to cry.

 

"What is it?"

 

"There was a professor. I thought...I thought he loved me. He was with someone else though. Married, I mean. I thought...he'd leave her. I slept with him. Why do I do this?"

 

"Have you slept with Spock?"

 

"No."

 

"Then you don't do this. That was once. You think I haven't been fooled by the seemingly dying relationship lie? I have. It hurts. And it's not our fault because we're not the liars, Christine."

 

"No, we're not."

 

"I really want to kiss you, but I'm not sure it's the right time."

 

"I really want to kiss you too. But I agree."

 

He pulled her back to cuddle in against him. "We don't have to decide anything tonight. Let's just get to know each other. Until we're ready to reach for more."

 

"You're a wise man, Jim Kirk."

 

"I don't know about that. Maybe I don't like rejection? I may go out of my way to avoid it. Maybe a less scared person would take you to bed right now, secure he could win you."

 

"You're not scared. You're smart." She leaned up and kissed him gently on the lips. Nothing sensuous, just sweet. Just tender. Just caring.

 

God, he could fall in love with her so easily.

 

The she pulled away. "Okay, I'll start. Has Sam always been kind of an asshole?"

 

He laughed at her blatant strategy to get them away from scary relationship talk, and saw her eyes crinkle up. "Yes. Yes, he has. Do you ever think about converting to Fleet?"

 

"Never had before. After this experience...yeah. I do, actually."

 

He liked that answer.

 

He liked it a lot.

 

##

 

Spock watched Kirk leave the bridge at shift change, no doubt to find Christine and monopolize her for the evening.

 

He handed his station off to his replacement and joined Pike to wait for the lift.

 

"Let's go to my office and talk," Pike said very softly.

 

"I had planned to work on the project you gave me. If you do not mind, I will do that instead."

 

"Oh, was I not clear, Spock? That was an order, not a request."

 

Spock glanced at the captain but could not read his expression. When the lift came, he followed him aboard and then off and to his office.

 

"Sit." It was clear this time that it was an order.

 

Spock sat at the table, facing the screen on which he had first seen Jim Kirk's face. He had spent time researching the new first officer. So much was exemplary, but Kirk had cheated on the Kobayashi Maru test and had not been expelled from the Academy. Instead he received a commendation for original thinking.

 

Spock did not understand the logic.

 

Pike frowned in the way he did when he was going to have a difficult conversation about personnel. "So Commander Kirk has been here a few days."

 

"Yes."

 

"Your interactions with him have been—for you—less than courteous."

 

"That is a matter of perspective."

 

"Is it a matter of goddamned perspective if I say you're borderline insubordinate? What the hell is wrong with you, Spock? He's trying. So damn hard. Why aren't you?"

 

Spock felt the anger he had never quite pushed away after Hemmer's death resurfacing. "I am sure you wish I would try since he was your chosen replacement for Number One before she was even arrested. You have Christine and I working on this project for her, but do you care that she is gone? How could you let her go down to the transporter room without warning her? How can any of us trust you if you would do that to her?"

 

"What in God's name are you talking about? I had no idea they were going to arrest her."

 

"Then why did you have Kirk's service record on your screen when I walked in that day?"

 

"Oh, shit, Spock. All this time you've thought..." All the frustration seemed to go out of him. "Do you remember what we talked about that day?"

 

"I do. I have excellent recall, as you well know."

 

"Then know that he was part of the reason I know not to fight my fate. I can't explain very much but it may have involved time crystals. I may have met him in another time. I may have been curious about him once I was in our time. I may have seen no reason to take his record down when you came in because I trust you implicitly not to talk about things you see in my office."

 

"But you brought him on as first officer."

 

"Yes, because he'll be a good one. And it's going to take a long time to pry Una from Starfleet security's hands no matter how much I want to pretend we'll have her back any day now. I need a first officer and Commanders Blanton and Rittenhouse aren't ready." He narrowed his eyes. "Do you disagree with that assessment? Or did you want to be first officer?"

 

"I lack the experience or expertise for that. As do those other officers, it is true."

 

"Was there someone else you wanted?"

 

"No, it is not that. Other than wanting her back, of course. I just...I just thought you knew she would be taken."

 

"And I can see how that would throw you." Pike sighed and got up. "You want anything to drink? The juice you like?"

 

"Yes, please." He had not realized how guarded he had been with the captain since that day. How...disappointed in him. In himself too for not understanding what his captain was capable of doing.

 

It was a relief to know Chris had not known. It was a relief to allow himself to again feel the regard he did for his captain—for his friend.

 

He took a sip of his drink when Chris sat down and said, "I will try harder with Kirk."

 

Chris took a long sip of his drink—scotch, no doubt—then said, "Okay, before I was the captain talking. Now, I'm speaking as your friend. I see you in the lounge."

 

"Am I not allowed in there?" He did not know where Chris was going with such a statement.

 

"Of course you are. What I mean is I see who you're watching."

 

Spock shook his head. "I watch many people. It is a useful means to better understand human interaction."

 

"I know you do. But you don't fixate on them generally. So are you watching Jim and Christine so intently because of what you thought about Jim—or because he's with Christine?"

 

"I do not fix—" But he could not finish the statement, could not lie because he did do that; he just had not thought anyone was noticing.

 

Chris laughed and shook his head. "Everybody thinks I miss what's going on. I don't miss a thing. You're with T'Pring, Spock. But I watch you with Chapel, and that's not how it feels. I don't know what's going on. And you don't have to tell me. But you have to stop staring at them like you want to drag Kirk to the challenge sands and lirpa him to death."

 

"But what if I do want to do that?" He held a hand up before Chris could give him a quick, no doubt sarcastic, reply. "What if I do not know what I want?"

 

"You've been chasing T'Pring for as long as I've known you. My God, I was your wingman that one time."

 

He looked down. It was why T'Pring trusted Chris. Why she called him by his first name. Chris had talked Spock up to her when she had been leaning toward Stonn. In the way only Chris could, without appearing to be doing anything other than being the most charming human anyone could meet. "I did not say it was logical."

 

"There are guys who only love the chase. Are you that guy?"

 

"My feelings for T'Pring are strong. I am not...that guy." He let himself sigh.

 

"Then let Christine go."

 

"May I speak frankly?"

 

"Spock, of course. We're friends."

 

"What I feel when I am with Christine...it is unlike anything I have experienced before. I feel as though I do not have to try to be anything other than what I am."

 

"Well, that sounds pretty damn good."

 

"But what I am has never been good enough for the planet I am from. Winning T'Pring means something. It means I am worthy."

 

"But how does it feel? Because the feeling you have with Christine isn't the kind of thing that goes away. But can one woman change how you feel about your culture and how you believe it views you? Is it even fair to ask that of T'Pring?" He leaned in. "She loves you Spock. T'Pring truly loves you. What hasn't she risked for you?"

 

"I know." He took a desperate sip of his juice. "I feel as if a war is occurring inside me. Have you felt this way?"

 

"Yeah, knowing I could change my future but also knowing why I won't. That's a war I fight every single day. No matter how copacetic I may pretend to feel. But it's also a war I can't win. I pick either one and something bad happens in the future."

 

"Am I not in the same situation? Someone will be hurt by my choice."

 

"You want my real opinion?"

 

Spock nodded.

 

"If you pick Christine, then T'Pring will be hurt. If you choose T'Pring, Christine won't be. She's already moving on. Let. Her." He did not look away for a long time, then shook his head and finished his drink.

 

"You are a faithful friend to T'Pring as well as to me."

 

"I think she's perfect for you, Spock. I think you'd be crazy to throw her away because Christine offers something easier."

 

Spock took a deep breath. "It is not just easier. I am...happier when I am with her than when I am with T'Pring."

 

"Okay, but is it because she truly makes you happier or because she demands nothing of you? T'Pring will expect you to be better, to try. I don't consider that a bad thing. You work constantly to be a better officer—why wouldn't you do the same thing for your romantic relationship?"

 

"What you say makes sense."

 

Chris smiled gently. "And yet you hate hearing it."

 

"That also may be true."

 

##

 

Chapel walked into the lab reserved for the captain's special project and saw that Spock had beaten her to it. She'd been making a habit of getting to the lab early, being set up and already working so there were no weird-ass attempts at small talk while Spock glared at her like she'd betrayed him.

 

He turned to face her. His expression seemed different. More at peace. "I am sorry."

 

"For...?"

 

"For how I have treated Kirk. I intend to adjust my attitude. He has reached out and I have not reciprocated. I will try and hope it is not too late."

 

She sat down on her stool and rolled it over to him. "He plays chess. You do too. Start there."

 

"I play three-dimensional chess."

 

She knocked him on the arm—like she would have before things got so weird—before she could think better of it. "Sorry. I need to stop doing that. And he plays that too."

 

"Ah, then I will ask if he wishes to play. And why must you stop doing that?"

 

"Spock, come on." She met his eyes, trying to read what was going on inside his oh-so-confusing brain.

 

"May we speak frankly of our relationship?"

 

"Don't we always?"

 

"No, we do not. We spout the things we should say instead of things we want to."

 

"Wow. Okay. You first then." She tried to roll her stool back a little, but he caught her hand and said, "Christine, please," in the most helpless voice he'd ever used with her and she was lost. Stuck in the quicksand that was loving Spock.

 

He let go of her hand. "I will go first. First, let me say that I am unskilled in this type of talk. I was of no interest to the females on Vulcan when I was growing up."

 

"Spock, half the crew has a crush on you."

 

"Yes, I know. Other species seem to find me of interest. But my own do not. It was not a pleasant way to grow up. Watching the subtle signs when two people began to show interest, began to pair up, began to interact in groups of these pairs. I was...alone."

 

"But now you're not. Now you have T'Pring."

 

"I do. And with her comes acceptance—of a sort. I realize that acceptance is as much how I perceive my place as how my culture perceives it. And I have chosen a path that will leave me little time for life on Vulcan."

 

She studied him. "So T'Pring is the Spock outpost. The signal that you are still Vulcan. Mated to one of the planet's most logical beings."

 

He met her eyes. "Yes, exactly."

 

"Do you love her? Or only what she can bring you?"

 

"We are speaking frankly?"

 

"We are."

 

"I do not know." He leaned in. "Ask me the next logical question, Christine."

 

"Do you love me?"

 

"I do. Very much. In a way I have never experienced before."

 

She did back up, just enough to get some space between them for her to ask, "Does it matter?"

 

"I do not think it does." His voice did a strange little break at the end. "But you have Kirk. I can see that you and he are highly compatible."

 

"I loved you first."

 

"And that will always mean everything to me, Christine. Everything." He closed his eyes as he said, "But I am choosing her."

 

"Open your damn eyes and tell me that."

 

"No."

 

"Then I don't fucking believe that's what you want." She kicked her stool away and was halfway to the door when he caught her, when he pulled her to him, when he kissed her.

 

When she kissed him back.

 

When they ripped each other's clothes off and one of them remembered to tell the computer to lock the door.

 

When he lifted her onto a desk and it was nothing but desperate lips and hands and thrusting and the sounds of completion.

 

He did not move away, did not let her go, instead tightened his arms around her and buried his head in her neck the way he had in the corridor after the memorial. "I do not want to choose her."

 

"Then don't." She forced him to lift his head, to look at her, holding either side of her face with her hands so he could feel her emotions. "We could be happy. We would have science and fun. And this."

 

"I am a Vulcan."

 

"So is your goddamn father. And he chose a human. So why can't you?"

 

"I want to."

 

"Then do."

 

He started to answer but she could tell he was not going to say what she wanted to hear. So she wrapped her legs around him more tightly and began to move, watching his face, feeling the reaction inside her. "Make love to me again, Spock. If this might be our only time, I want to enjoy it."

 

He kissed her tenderly, going slowly this time, touching her face as if memorizing the planes of it. "I love you. I wish..."

 

"Don't wish. Wishes are for fools. You pick her or you pick me. It's as simple as that."

 

"It is far from simple. Although I can see how from your or her perspective, it might seem so." He kissed her and began to move faster, but could obviously feel where she was, could get her where he wanted her to be—right on the edge—before he really let go. Before she was crying out, the sound muffled in his chest and he was also a moment later, his face buried in her hair.

 

"This could be ours, Spock." She kissed his cheek, working her way to his neck, then back up to his lips.

 

But he was already pulling away emotionally, still inside her but his heart a million lightyears away. Regret was on his face—regret, she thought, that they had done this, not that he was giving it up—and she felt as if he had stabbed her.

 

"You won't even give us a chance, will you?"

 

"I am Vulcan. She will ensure that other Vulcans see me that way."

 

"Why do you care?" She yelled it at him and didn't care who might hear. But then she lowered her voice; it wasn't her style to yell. "You don't live there anymore. You ran from there. You don't talk to your Vulcan father, only your human mother. Your Vulcan brother who wanted to express his emotions is in jail and kept from his partner—how fucked up is that? Your super-secret human sister who you loved is gone. Why the fuck would you care about Vulcan?"

 

"I do not know." He pulled her close and whispered sweet things in her ear, things about how she made him feel, how he loved her, how in a different world he would choose her.

 

And none of it mattered. Because he was choosing T'Pring.

 

She pushed him off her, out of her, and ducked under his arm, hunting for her clothes. She did not bother to check her hair. She just made sure everything that needed to be fastened was and turned to him. "This will never happen again."

 

"Unless I leave her?"

 

"Maybe not even then. I make you happy and you don't want that—you'd rather find some kind of acceptance in a culture that will never, ever make you happy. What else is there to say?"

 

"Will you go back to him?"

 

She laughed, a small, bitter puff of air. "I'm not with him, yet. We've waited while I figured this out. Well, thank you, Spock. I think I've figured this out." She turned to go.

 

"No. You are mine." He looked as shocked as she did that he'd said it.

 

She turned around slowly. "I'm not. I'll never be. You've made your choice. Live with it."

 

"Christine, please."

 

"Please what? Are you unsure? Is there even a chance you won't pick her?"

 

"I cannot lose you."

 

"We'll be friends, if you can manage that. I can fuck a friend and then realize it was a big mistake and go back to being friends. It's hard and super awkward at first, but I can do it. Can you?"

 

"You are not just a friend."

 

She strode to him and took him by the shoulders, shaking him a little. "You can't have it both ways. You can't have her and me. If you can't see that, then we can't even be friends, Spock."

 

He looked so bereft she wanted to comfort him, but she resisted the urge. This was what had started this whole goddamned mess in the first place. His vulnerability around her.

 

Vulnerability that meant jack shit.

 

##

 

Kirk's terminal beeped with a text message from Christine. "You there?"

 

Smiling, he typed, "Yep. Want to come over?"

 

"BRT."

 

He turned back to the report he was working on. He'd had no idea how many reports the first officer had to read and sign off on. But it was amazing how much he was learning; in less than a week, he felt like he knew more about this ship than he ever had about the Farragut, and he'd made it his business to understand that ship.

 

But this, the personnel side, had not been accessible. There was way more to running a starship than just the ship. The crew was a collective made up of individuals. One individual could bring down a unit. It was fascinating watching the different ways supervisors tried to address issues. Ways Kirk approved of and ways he didn't.

 

He wasn't going to do anything yet about the ways he didn't. It was stupid to act before you understood. He'd learned that a long time ago.

 

His door sounded and he said, "Come."

 

Christine walked in, her hair wet, dressed in shorts and a boxy sweatshirt and flip-flops. She had no makeup on and he loved her for that. That she was comfortable enough to not resort to artifice or sexy clothes with him. He enjoyed this easy comfort so much more.

 

Although sexy clothes and artifice definitely had their places. And he enjoyed seeing all the facets of Christine Chapel.

 

He took a closer look and thought she might have been crying. There were many reasons to cry: family emergency, death of a friend, death of a patient. It didn't have to be Spock. "Sit down."

 

"No. Not yet."

 

But it probably was related to Spock. Because she'd showered.

 

"Was it what you hoped?" he asked as gently as he could.

 

"It was more." She met his eyes fearlessly and he loved that she wasn't going to hide this—whatever this was. Honesty was important to both of them.

 

Even when it hurt.

 

"But, it meant nothing. And that's killing me, Jim. I don't understand how someone can walk away from someone they love, someone who makes them happy." She met his eyes. "Explain it to me."

 

"I can't. I loved Carol. I was ready to marry her. To enjoy having a family when we found out she was pregnant. She'd only have me if I left Starfleet."

 

"But this is who you are."

 

"Yes. And this is who you are. Warm and beautiful and worth everything. But people walk away from us, Christine. Because they want something else. They want...control. Carol wanted to control me and I believe if Spock is half human, he just wants to control that part of himself. Especially if you bring it out."

 

"You've figured that out in a few days?"

 

"I'm good at reading people. Especially when they're in love with the woman I want."

 

"You still want me. Even after..." She gestured to her body, to her hair, to her heart.

 

He got up and walked over to her. "Listen to me. If he can't see that you're the right choice, he doesn't deserve you. If he did, I'd back away. I've told you that, and I meant it. But do you think he'll come running after you in an hour or two?"

 

"No." She laughed very bitterly.

 

"In a day or two?"

 

"No."

 

"Then fuck him. And fuck Carol. Fuck anyone who can't see what's right in front of them." He pulled her to him and kissed her as tenderly as he was capable of. "Hold on, let me finish this one report, okay?"

 

"You can finish them all if you want. I'll just sit and watch."

 

"That sounds very, very boring for you. And I have a better idea." He finished reading the report while she curled up on his sofa. Then he made a few notes that should upset no one but would show he'd read the thing and sent it on.

 

Then he was up and holding his hand out to her. "Come on. I want to show you something amazing."

 

She got up and took his hand, letting him lead her out to the corridor, and the lift, and a deck most people never went to because it was almost fully automated.

 

"This is one of my favorite places on the ship. I discovered it the other night when I couldn't sleep. Found out I had access and went in." He pointed to the sign that said: Horticulture and Hydroponics.

 

Palming the way in, he asked for full daylight and the vast space was lit like it was early morning in Iowa. "I wasn't meant to be a farm boy, but there's a part of me that loves plants. Just being around them is soothing."

 

She was looking around in wonder. "I get the vegetables but why all these flowers?"

 

"They're used for special events and functions. And gifts—no one has sent you flowers yet?"

 

She shook her head.

 

"Well, that's going to remedied very quickly. What's your favorite flower." He knew it wouldn't be roses. She was too unique.

 

"Tuberoses."

 

"My lady." He bowed and gestured, making her laugh as she took his arm. He led her into the maze of flower aisles, to where the tropical flowers were.

 

"Oh, my God, Jim, the smell. Why couldn't we smell this from the doorway?"

 

"Special vents. Keep the scents contained to the immediate area. Probably so the overly fragrant stuff doesn't get sucked up by the stuff people are going to eat. Nice, huh?" He smiled as she leaned in to smell the tuberose—her grin of appreciation was huge. Then she moved over to a yellow flower.

 

"Oh, this one. This is my new favorite." She looked at the label. "Plumeria."

 

"I've seen it called Frangipani too. I love that one." He leaned in to smell it. "Try the white ginger." He pointed three plants down and she went and made a sound of deep appreciation as she smelled it. "Another new favorite?"

 

"Yes. I never want to leave."

 

"Anytime you want to come here, you tell me. People work here but most of the time it's like this. Peaceful." He pulled her to him, then told the computer to change to sunset mode. "The lights follow Earth cycle. It'll be dark soon. When we leave, it will reset to whatever it was on when we came in. This ship is so amazing. I love sharing it with you."

 

"I love that you know more than I do and I've been here longer." She put her arms around his neck and sighed in a happy way. "I really, really, really, really like you."

 

"I really, really, really, really like you too." Then he kissed her, their first real kiss, not sweet and tender, but deep and sensuous. But controlled. He did not intend to make love to her tonight.

 

But he did intend to make her feel loved tonight. The wooing was beginning in earnest. Spock had had her and let her go. Idiot.

 

Kirk would not make that mistake.

 

##

 

Spock walked over to Kirk's station. He could smell Christine on the other man, traces of her shampoo and perfume—memories of the previous night washed over him, holding her, having her. How right it had felt to be with her that way. He pushed them away.

 

"Something I can do for you, Lieutenant?" Kirk asked without looking up.

 

Spock deserved that. He would not react. And Kirk had asked it very softly—he was not trying to embarrass him.

 

"I have been told you play three-dimensional chess."

 

"And I bet I know who told you that." Kirk finally looked at him. He was smiling in a way Spock could not read. "I do play. I'm good."

 

Spock found that doubtful. Many humans believed they were good. And then they played him. "If you would ever like to play, I would welcome the interaction."

 

"Christine's busy tonight so I'm free as soon as our replacements arrive. Are you?"

 

Spock had not expected this answer.

 

Kirk laughed softly. "Look, if you were just trying to extend an olive branch but didn't really want to play, it's fine." He turned back to his terminal. "On the other hand," he said so softly only a Vulcan would have heard it, "you may just be chicken." His smile grew as he waited.

 

Spock knew he was being manipulated. Still, did this man truly think he might win? "I look forward to it. Shall I bring the board?"

 

"That'd be great. Mine's packed up. Didn't expect to find anyone who plays."

 

Spock had not either. But he had kept his chess set out to remind him of Michael. It was his memorial to that which could not be memorialized. "I will meet you in the lounge, then. After shift."

 

"Look forward to it." Kirk did look up and his smile—the one that had bothered Spock so much in the beginning—seemed more authentic.

 

Or maybe he was just wanting it to be. Wanting this man to be a good officer, a good first officer, a good partner for the woman Spock did not want to give up.

 

But had to.

 

Did Kirk know he and Christine had been intimate? Would she have told him? Would a human wish to spend recreational time with the man who had just had sex with a woman he was also pursuing?

 

Christine must not have told him. He walked back to his station, worked the rest of his shift without interruption, and then once his replacement arrived, went to his quarters to retrieve the chessboard.

 

Kirk was not in the lounge when he arrived but Christine was, and she was sitting with Uhura and Ortegas, laughing in the way that said she had managed to drink a lot in a very short time.

 

Their eyes met. He was the first to look away. Not because hers were angry or sad—they were empty when she looked at him.

 

She had never looked at him and reminded him of a Vulcan before.

 

"Get us a booth and I'll get the drinks," Kirk said from behind him, startling Spock, but he managed to hide the reaction. "What do you want?"

 

"Water is fine. No ice."

 

Kirk walked to the bar by way of the booth Christine was in, leaned down, and kissed her in full view of everyone, and then went to the bar. Spock turned and found a booth with no view of Christine's table.

 

Kirk joined him with an amber beverage and Spock's water. "Interesting choice of booth. No view of anything back here."

 

"I assumed you would wish to focus on the board."

 

Kirk gave him a smile that said he probably knew exactly why Spock had chosen this booth

 

Spock looked down and busied himself with setting up the board. "Do you not worry at the message such a public display of intimacy with a fellow crewmember will send?" The words were out before he could call them back.

 

"A. She's not crew. B. If she were crew, she's in medical, which I have no jurisdiction over. So, nope." He met Spock's eyes. "You have any other questions about my relationship with Christine? Going to warn me that if I hurt her, you'll kill me?"

 

Spock could feel his lips tightening, his eyebrows pulling down. He did not want to give this man a frown—or any kind of sign that he was annoyed.

 

"Because it seems to me the one hurting her is you, Spock." He moved his first piece.

 

Spock raised an eyebrow. Taken aback by the brazen verbal attack and the unceremonious way Kirk had started play.

 

He was used to humans dithering. Or overly explaining their experience learning chess. Kirk just moved and then looked at him in a manner that was as assessing as Sarek's would have been.

 

Spock made his move and then said, "My relationship with Christine is my business."

 

Kirk moved, not the way Spock expected. "Is it though? Triangles are messy for a reason."

 

Spock took a moment to study the board even though very little had changed, trying to see the logic of Kirk's play. There did not appear to be any.

 

He moved as he normally would.

 

One side of Kirk's mouth tipped up, in what Spock had learned was a micro-expression that meant contempt. Spock had made a mistake? Or was Kirk wanting him to think he did? This was not poker. Bluffing was not a part of game play.

 

He decided to ignore the provocation and made his move. "There is no triangle. I am engaged to be wed. Christine and I are simply friends. What you have with her is your business."

 

"Yeah, you say that now. But feelings change."

 

"I am Vulcan. I let logic drive me."

 

"Oh, was it logic fucking Christine yesterday?"

 

Spock froze. She had told him?

 

"Relax, Spock. I'm not mad. I just think you need to own up to what you're doing. Because that's not what a guy does with a friend when he's got a fiancée at home." His smile was easy and untroubled.

 

A lie. That smile was a lie. It had to be. Spock had never felt so off balance.

 

Again he was reminded of his father. No matter which way he went, it would be wrong. So he said nothing and moved another piece.

 

And immediately saw his mistake.

 

Kirk laughed softly as he took Spock's knight. "Ignore the chit chat, Spock. Or haven't any of your previous opponents used that on you?" Then his eyes went hard. "Although don't ignore the chit chat. Because I meant every word of it." Then the smile was back, the one Spock had been gullible enough to think was authentic. "Your move."

 

Spock studied the board with more intensity than he had been, seeing what Kirk was doing, marveling at what he was doing. "Where did you learn to play?" he asked as he made his next move. Ironic to ask since he usually was bored when others forced him to listen.

 

"A woman named Ruth. She was fascinating, as you might say."

 

"A lover?"

 

He nodded. "Possibly my first love. I like smart women. They make life so much more interesting than it otherwise would be." His tone was entirely conversational, as if he they had not just been discussing how Spock had been with his woman.

 

It was so confusing.

 

And again, he was letting it distract him as Kirk took his rook.

 

Kirk just laughed. "I'm going to give you a tip. Pretend I actually have skill and you might stand a chance. I take it no human has beat you before?"

 

"You have not beaten me yet," he said, desperately studying the board for an effective counter to what seemed an utterly chaotic attack. He met Kirk's eyes and let respect show in his. "But I will desist from assuming you cannot win."

 

"What else could I ask for?"

 

"Christine, free and clear."

 

"Well, yeah, there's that." He was grinning, in a way that seemed not at all threatened. Like this man loved a challenge. Or that he was very sure of Christine and him. "I'm okay with you being friends with her. I want that clear. She's her own person. Just don't take it that far again unless you're free and she's chosen you. Okay?" His tone was so even, as if they were talking about how to divide a dormitory refrigerator.

 

"She loves me." Why did he have to say that? And in such a plaintive way. As if he was a little boy again, arguing with a disapproving father.

 

"I know. Even after all this. So you must be quite a guy because I don't think she would if you weren't. I look forward to getting to know the good guy she and the captain see. It's been in short supply so far."

 

"I realize that. I apologize."

 

"So we can start over?" At Spock's nod, he said, with a grin that this time looked real. "Hi, I'm Jim Kirk. The new first officer. And the guy who's going to beat you in our first game of chess."

 

"Welcome to the ship." This time he knew he sounded like he meant it. "And no, you are not."

 

##

 

Chapel looked up to see Spock and Jim walking back into the main part of the lounge. Where the hell had they gone?

 

Spock shot her a look she could only call rueful and walked out, but Jim came over, and she moved to give him room without him having to ask.

 

"I hate to break this party up," he said as he sat.

 

Erica laughed. "No, you don't. You just want Christine all to yourself."

 

"You're not wrong, Erica." He grinned at her in such a natural way and she responded back in kind. Chapel felt something inside her relax. Erica had never warmed up to her thing with Spock, but she seemed to really like Jim. She'd had only good things to say about him while they drank and ate.

 

Nyota just watched him with a little bit of a moony look. Earlier she'd said, "Are you going to leave any for us, Christine?" In kind of a snotty way.

 

Fortunately, Erica had reminded her Spock was engaged.

 

Fortunately, Erica didn't also know that hadn't stopped him from fucking her.

 

She'd taken antitox right after Spock and Jim walked in so Erica would never know.

 

"We'll miss you when you go back to the Academy, Nyota." His manner was so gentle, but not the same kind of gentle as Pike's. It was so interesting to contrast them. Pike seemed like a dog lying in front of a fire who might surprise you when he saw a squirrel and came totally alive. Jim was more like a coiled snake. Like there was energy inside him just waiting to come out. But not in a hair-trigger way. Like he was always sort of buzzing with the energy, like he used it to just be him. The same way Pike made things easy on himself and everyone else by being mellow.

 

Jim's mellowness was more selective. The way he reached out more strategic. She could just imagine how he'd played Spock. "So who won?" she asked him.

 

"I'll never tell. But there were several games and I don't think Spock would have played more than one if I sucked as a player, if that helps you figure it out."

 

Erica squinted at with one eye, like he was a specimen under a microscope. "You don't look like a guy who lost."

 

"Well, I'm sitting next to Christine. What fool would ever say he'd lost if that were the case?"

 

"That's so beautiful." Nyota put her hand over her heart.

 

"Oh, for God's sake, did you forget your antitox again. Here." Erica handed her a pill then nudged her to get out of the booth. "See you on the bridge, sir."

 

"Jim, Erica."

 

Her smile was huge. "Jim."

 

Nyota looked over, her head obviously clearing. "Do I get to call you that?"

 

"You're still a cadet. Sorry."

 

"This is just more hazing. Like that stupid dress uniform thing she did to me." She glared at Erica.

 

He laughed and mock bowed to Erica. "A classic."

 

"Yes, indeed." Erica pushed Nyota toward the door.

 

Once they were gone, Chapel said, "You use your name like a weapon. You really not going to let Nyota use it?"

 

"Do you truly want to know the dark secrets of my tactics?"

 

"I do. I'm fascinated."

 

He leaned back. "Erica is an essential member of the bridge. She and the captain, who I still struggle to call 'Chris' even though he's told me to, are tight. It will feel more natural, I think for all of us now. If she's calling me that."

 

"She won't call you that on the bridge, though, will she?"

 

"No, but he'll hear her doing it at Captain's Dinners or other places. And so will others who aren't such big fans yet. She's an important piece on the board, Christine. It's not how high you are sometimes. It's how plugged in you are—at all levels. How valued—by all levels. And she's both of those."

 

"And poor Nyota doesn't count because she's a cadet?"

 

"It's more she seems to have a crush on me. I've had back luck letting people who do call me by my first name. It drops a barrier I don't want to drop."

 

"So if we had met on the ship instead of shore leave...?"

 

"Yeah, I've thought about that." He touched her cheek. "Let's just say, I'm glad we met there first. Because I really do tend to not date among the crew I serve with. It gets so messy."

 

"Yeah. I found that out at Stanford. Don't shit in your own nest."

 

"Amen." He nuzzled her neck. "Do you want to sleep in my quarters tonight? We don't have to do anything..."

 

"But we can do things if we want?"

 

He nodded really quickly and she laughed at his goofy smile—too goofy to be calculated. She was learning to read him, to find the real Jim Kirk under the one he presented so strategically—or was it tactically? She needed to get these military terms straight. Like where did operationally fit?

 

"Are you listening, darling?" He was laughing.

 

"I got distracted by military jargon."

 

"I said, 'As far as you want to go.'"

 

"Mmm, I like that. So, just out of curiosity and to help me further put together the puzzle that is James T. Kirk, did you tell Spock you knew?"

 

"I did." He grinned again, this time not as silly an expression. "A lot was said with not so many words."

 

"What else can you do with not so many words?"

 

He was sliding out of the booth and holding his hand out to her. "Come to my lair and find out."

 

Laughing, she let him pull her up and put his arm around her. He smelled good. A light scent. Nothing too much.

 

They got to his quarters and she suddenly felt nervous. She never felt nervous about sex.

 

He seemed to sense it because he pulled her to him and said, "As little or much as you want, okay?" But he was touching her gently, all the places, over her uniform and not lingering but it was turning her on so much.

 

"More." She began to take off his uniform and once she had him naked, she pushed him back onto the bed.

 

She was about to join him when he said, "No, takes yours off. No fair me being the only naked person in here."

 

"Do I have to make it sexy?"

 

He pointed to his groin. Such a nice sight. "Does he look like he cares if you make it sexy?"

 

"He does not. But I'm asking you."

 

"Oh, then yes please." He laughed and it was a higher pitched laugh, not the kind a person can control—she decided she loved that laugh. "No, just strip, woman, and get on top of me."

 

She followed his orders; he was the first officer, after all.

 

She closed her eyes as they moved and he said, "Open them, Chris."

 

She opened her eyes—nice to know he might be a little nervous too about this, might want to know she wasn't thinking of Spock. But—"Chris?"

 

"I know it's confusing, with the captain being that too. But I think of you that way in my head."

 

"I love that name. You can call me that."

 

"Does anybody else here call you that?"

 

"Nope. It's just yours." She began to move slowly—holy shit he felt good inside her. "And so what if there's a little confusion? You've seen the records, right? How many Sarahs and Elizabeths and Margarets are there on this damn ship?"

 

"A lot." He looked delighted and she asked, "What?"

 

"I love that you can talk and do this."

 

"I love that you can too." She grabbed his arms and pulled them over his head. "James is also a common name. As is Daniel and William."

 

"Let's forget about those other guys. But if you want to invite the Sarahs and Hannahs in..."

 

"I didn't say Hannah."

 

"I know but there's a lot of them, too."

 

As she laughed, he rolled them so he was on top. "I just feel like controlling this for a while if you don't mind." He kissed her deeply, differently than before. Like she was his. Like she would always be his.

 

"I don't mind in the least."

 

##

 

Spock woke to the sound of his terminal announcing an incoming comm from T'Pring. He hurried out of bed and to the screen. "T'Pring."

 

She studied him. "I woke you."

 

"Yes. It is no matter. I would be up soon. I am gratified to see you."

 

"Then you will be even more gratified to know you will see me in the flesh tomorrow."

 

"Oh?"

 

"Yes, I will be on the ship. We will have dinner. You did not have plans, did you?"

 

"I did not. But this is not the best time for a personal visit."

 

She almost frowned. "It is not personal, Spock. I am meeting with Chris."

 

"For what purpose?" Chris would not have told her Spock was having doubts about their relationship, would he?

 

"One of the JAG members for your former first officer's trial is Vulcan. He worked briefly at Ankeshtan K'til. I was not impressed. But I did gain a great deal of insight into how he approaches a task. I will have information of value to the effort to free her."

 

"Ah, I see." He felt a surge of relief.

 

"So I would like to have dinner, as I said. In your quarters. And I wish Nurse Chapel to attend."

 

His relief vanished. "Why?"

 

"She is your friend. I wish to get to know her better."

 

"She may be busy. She has a romantic partner now."

 

"Oh?"

 

He tried to hide any possible reaction. "Yes, the new first officer."

 

"How disloyal of her." She almost smiled. "I can see it on your face, Spock. How dare she date the person who took Number One's place?"

 

He did not correct her. Let her think his discomfort was for this reason.

 

"Well, invite him too."

 

"I do not believe they will—"

 

"Spock, was anything I said unclear?"

 

"No."

 

"Good. Also do not order anything overly spicy and lower the temperature in your quarters. Humans often find the temperatures we enjoy off putting. We wish to make our guests comfortable."

 

"Indeed."

 

"I will see you tomorrow." And she was gone, signed off with no other goodbye in the Vulcan way.

 

He took a deep breath, then showered and dressed, and hurried to sickbay. Christine was usually ten to fifteen minutes early to her shift.

 

Today, however, she was not. When she did finally come in, only four minutes early, she looked—she looked happy.

 

He sighed. She and Kirk had surely spent the night together. He felt a loss, deep inside, but resolved to push it even further down.

 

Her happy look vanished the moment she saw him. "Look what the cat dragged in," she said as she passed him and walked to her office.

 

He followed her and shut the door for privacy.

 

"I haven't even gotten my coffee yet."

 

"T'Pring will be on the ship tomorrow."

 

"Big whoop." She tried to push past him, but he blocked the door.

 

"Your coffee can wait a moment, Christine."

 

Sighing, she folded her arms over her chest and tapped a foot. "What do you want me to say, Spock? That you're going to get to fuck both of us in the same week? Go you."

 

"No, it is not that." Although that was true. Unsettling. Also slightly arousing. He tried not to focus on it. "She wishes to have dinner with you and Kirk."

 

"Why?"

 

"I do not know. She will be here to work with Chris on Number One's defense. She knows one of the JAG officers. She has asked for this, Christine. She wishes to entertain my friends. To be honest, it will be our first time as a couple hosting." He could tell she did not care. "Please. If we are to be friends, as you said, would this not be a good manner to restart the relationship?"

 

"No. This would be a terrible fucking idea." She glared at him. "You're really not going to leave until I say yes, are you?"

 

He shook his head, hoping he was putting sufficient authority into it. He did not want to fail in this. There would be too many questions.

 

Christine moved to her terminal. "If Jim can't go, I'm not going." She keyed in a message and a moment later said, "Shit, he says he can't wait."

 

Spock found himself suddenly very grateful for Kirk's apparent sense of mischief. "Then you will come."

 

"Yes. Fuck it all."

 

He sat down for a moment. "Can you tell him why I am late reporting to station."

 

"I told him you were here with the invite. Do you want me to write you a goddamn hall pass too?"

 

"No. Christine. Please. I know—I know I have handled this badly. But when you walked in, before you saw me, you looked very...happy."

 

"I was. Very, very, very."

 

He felt each "very" as if the words were knives stabbing into him. "Excellent. Then can we not be friends? Your Kirk is quite skilled at chess. I look forward to playing him again. It would be...good if you and I can find a way to..."

 

"To what? Be what we were?" She moved around to lean against the desk, arms again crossed against his chest. "Don't you get it? The reason we were that way was because we wanted each other. We just thought we were friends. I'm not sure what being your actual friend will be like."

 

"I do not believe that is true. You helped me with T'Pring. Why would you do that if you wanted me?"

 

"Because I know we can love more than one person at the same time."

 

"And now I know that as well. And our friendship will grow because I am more informed. I will be careful with you, Christine. I value you."

 

"You also don't want me mentioning to T'Pring over appetizers that I fucked her man."

 

"That is also true."

 

"Damn it, stop looking so desperate and be grateful I had such a fun night. Not much sleep but so much fun. Fine. Friends."

 

He got up. "Thank you. Do you have preferences for food?"

 

"Jim eats anything as far as I can tell. You know what I like."

 

"I will ensure the menu appeals when I arrange for delivery." And a table and chairs from the quartermaster. His quarters were not set up for dinner guests. "Thank you, Christine."

 

"Yeah, thank me when it's over."

 

He did not like the sound of that. He resisted saying so. Just left and got busy ordering what he needed while he made his way to the bridge.

 

"So dinner, huh?" Kirk said softly as Spock stopped at his station, hoping he would not have to explain his absence. "Can't wait to meet the little woman."

 

He had a sinking sensation that Christine was right: that this was a terrible idea.

 

##

 

Kirk lay on Christine's bed while she pulled out dresses and showed them to him. "Is it formal?"

 

"Fuck if I know. Spock will probably opt for some kind of dark Vulcan robe if he doesn't just stick with his uniform. Those seem to be the two main things he wears."

 

Should it bother him that she knew Spock's wardrobe? Then again he'd remember someone who only wore two things so...

 

"T'Pring will look effortlessly stunning even if she opts for ashes and sackcloth." She held out a dress he really liked. White. Simple. It would play off her hair so well.

 

"That's a definite yes for the next time we go out dancing. But why are you dressing up for dinner with our so-called friends?" He was in jeans and a black t-shirt.

 

"Damn good question." She rummaged through the closet and came out with an icy pink v-neck sweater that had snaps all the way down. She pulled on some black pants and then her favorite flip-flops.

 

"I approve. Now come here so I can play with those snaps."

 

She laughed but shook her head. "I have to put more make-up on. She always has hers done perfectly."

 

"Sweetie. You don't have to. Because you're perfect this way. A dark lip would look unexpected, though. Like...an understated fuchsia. Red is too normal for you."

 

She started to laugh and he said, "Don't start. Ruth was a make-up artist when she wasn't winning every chess tournament in sight. She taught me a lot about what people are trying to express with certain looks." He'd told her about Ruth. About Janice. About Carol—so much about Carol and David and how he felt about not seeing his son.

 

He'd told her more in a few days than he had to most people over years.

 

"And a dark lip with very little else says 'I'm super confident in how I look'?" She crawled onto the bed and cuddled in next to him as he went to town on the snaps. "Also unexpected with the light pink."

 

"Exactly." He kissed her slowly but not too seriously. They did not want to show up to two Vulcans' dinner smelling of sex. "I'm going to be thinking all through dinner of how I'll be taking that sweater off you later."

 

She grinned in the sensuous way he loved. "So how much older was Ruth than you?"

 

"Ten years, which when you're in the Academy, is a lot." He noticed she got very quiet. "Was the creep that much older?" It was how he referred to the married guy she'd mentioned.

 

She nodded. "Same age for me too. Did you ever feel like she took advantage of you?"

 

"Oh, hell, no. It took me forever to convince her to go on a date much less sleep with me. She taught me chess before she taught me how to be a good lover."

 

"I owe her a debt of gratitude." She glanced over at the chrono. "It's time." She sounded like they were about to enter the arena to be killed by gladiators. "And there won't be any fucking booze if I know them."

 

"Shit."

 

"Yeah." She gave him a long, very sweet kiss then got off the bed and went into the bathroom. When she came out, she had the perfect shade of lipstick on. "I mixed two to get this effect. Good thing it's long wearing because no one needs to know how much concocting it took."

 

"You look amazing." And she did. Like a fashion model. Stark and effortlessly striking. "I'm a lucky man." He took her hand and led her to Spock's.

 

Spock answered the door. He was in a dark robe and Kirk bit back a smile. Chris knew her men. "You are on time."

 

"Were we not supposed to be?"

 

"He means he assumed you would not be because humans are often late." A woman stepped in front of him. A gorgeous woman.

 

"You must be T'Pring."

 

"And you must be Commander Kirk."

 

"Guilty as charged."

 

She looked at Chris. "Nurse Chapel."

 

"T'Pring, you must call her Christine."

 

"Must I?" She turned her gaze back to Kirk. "And must I call you James or Jim or what is the diminutive—ah, yes, Jimmy?"

 

"No, Commander Kirk's fine." He didn't smile. She'd just insulted his woman. Let her see a face as icy as her own. He felt Chris's hand on his back, rubbing—she knew what he'd just done. But then she knew how carefully he controlled who addressed him as what.

 

He expected more iciness from T'Pring but instead she seemed to relax. "Touché, Commander. I am sorry, Christine. I did not mean to be impolite."

 

Chris was now tapping on his back.

 

"And I prefer Jim, if you want to be less formal with me too."

 

She inclined her head gracefully as she murmured, "Jim," and moved aside to let them enter.

 

He saw Spock taking in Chris, probably realizing she looked different but maybe not precisely how. Kirk liked that—was it underhanded to want her to look a little more untouchable now that she was with him? Ruth used to say, "All's fair in love, war, and cosmetics, darling. And they're very often the same thing."

 

To his shock, he saw T'Pring pouring them what looked like wine. He must not have hidden his surprise because she said, "This is from Spock's uncle's vineyards. This type of Vulcan red is quite popular."

 

"There's alcohol in that?" Chris asked, sounding super skeptical.

 

"There is. I trust you can hold yours?"

 

Oh, man. Chris was going to have to raise her level of snark for this one.

 

"I drink rye for fun, T'Pring. I can manage fortified grape juice."

 

And there she was. He tried not to laugh as he took the glass. "Me too."

 

Spock lifted his glass. "To our first dinner as hosts." He looked at T'Pring with evident fondness. "And to my future wife."

 

Kirk wasn't sure how Chris was going to like that. But she was quick to lift her glass and say gently, "To hosting together and T'Pring."

 

"Cheers," he followed.

 

They did not clink glasses. It was not a surprise.

 

"Please," T'Pring said, gesturing to a table that had clearly been laid out by the quartermaster since it was in the middle of the living room. "Spock tells me it is customary to plate your own food. Please... " The food sat on a credenza, looking and smelling super appetizing.

 

"Spock also tells me you are especially fond of brussels sprouts prepared this way, Christine." There didn't seem to be a hidden message in her voice—just a hostess indicating a guest's potential favorite.

 

He saw that the brussels sprouts were roasted and caramelized and he took a lot of them because they looked super good. He also took enough of everything else not to insult the hosts.

 

Once they were seated and eating, there was a long silence as they first ate, but then T'Pring said, "Christine, when will your assignment here be up?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"Such lack of specificity must make it difficult to plan your future."

 

He expected her to hit back with something sharp. Instead she looked at him and grinned. "You know, before I met this guy, it would have bothered me to live without knowing what's next. Now I find I can't wait to turn corners and see what's ahead."

 

Damn. She was amazing. Not least because he could tell she absolutely meant it so it made him feel good—and made Spock no doubt feel like crap.

 

"That is quite romantic. Very human." T'Pring sounded different. As if somehow Chris had put something to rest for her. "I have had cause to consider the close nature of your relationship with Spock. After seeing your kiss—it was unnerving at the time, even if utterly logical once explained."

 

Wow, and she was admitting that? Fortunately, Chris had told him about the kiss, so T'Pring wasn't surprising him with this info. By the way Spock had glanced at him, he clearly hadn't been sure if Chris had shared it or not.

 

When would he get that Chris shared everything important?

 

"I had a little crush on Spock." Her voice was steady. "But, half the ship does." She said that in a stage whisper, as if she was sharing something just between the women.

 

"Really?"

 

"It's true," Kirk said. "Not sure what he has, but he should bottle it and give it to the rest of us."

 

T'Pring shot him an appraising look. "You are extraordinarily handsome—for a human. I doubt you would need Eau d'Spock."

 

He laughed. "Okay, maybe not."

 

Spock looked very confused. Did his woman not joke normally? Because that was a good one.

 

"If you are so attractive, does that mean Christine must share you with others?"

 

Uh oh. He thought before he answered. "Only if she wants to. I don't need that."

 

She met Chris's eyes mercilessly. "If Spock is also attractive and desired by many, must I share?"

 

He didn't turn to look at Chris, just waited for her answer.

 

"No. No one should have to share. Unless that's what they're into. It pretty much sucks to share. Especially if you don't know you're doing it." Her voice was steady but...sincere.

 

"Well, it is fortunate then that we both have men we will not have to share with others."

 

"Yes" both he and Spock said.

 

"However, I have been reading on swinging in my studies of human sexuality."

 

He glanced at Spock, who was blushing furiously and had closed his eyes.

 

"It is apparently quite popular among some humans. And of course Deltan culture is based on polyamory."

 

No one answered. He thought no one dared.

 

"If Spock wished to explore this facet of his humanity, you would be acceptable partners."

 

He couldn't help it. He laughed. A little hysterically.

 

"You disagree?" She raised one eyebrow at him.

 

"I do not. You're very desirable. But I don't think Spock wants that."

 

"But we do not really know what Spock wants. Because Spock himself does not know what he wants." She turned to him. "Is that not true?"

 

"I know that I do not wish to 'swing.'"

 

"But if you were to, would these two not be acceptable? Or would you rather just add Christine to our bed?"

 

There was a very tense silence. He had no idea who was going to break it and how.

 

But then Chris said almost nostalgically, looking down, "I was with a woman once. It was nice. Except she got mad about something and sort of chased me while firing a phaser. But before that part, it was nice. Different than a man." She looked up, directly at T'Pring. "Have you ever been with one?"

 

"I have. She did not fire weapons at me."

 

"Soft lips, though, right?"

 

"Very. And a bit more finesse in certain areas of lovemaking." She looked at Spock. "That was not a criticism. A female knows what a female wants. If we meld at some point during sex, you will understand."

 

Spock seemed to not know what to say. "Which woman?"

 

"It is immaterial. It was while I was away at school."

 

Kirk raised his glass. "Ah, those wacky times of experimentation. May we never forget."

 

Spock did not lift his glass. "I feel the odd man out."

 

"I imagine you often do," Chris said, not without a lot of vitriol.

 

"Indeed," T'Pring said. "Spock is often too concerned he will not act sufficiently Vulcan that he misses interesting opportunities a full Vulcan would not hesitate to take."

 

"What other opportunities have I missed, T'Pring?"

 

"It is immaterial."

 

Kirk freaking loved this woman. Oh, man, was she going to manage her husband.

 

Chris suddenly leaned into him and asked, "Have you been with a man?"

 

"Maybe." He grinned and kissed her, suddenly not caring what T'Pring or Spock thought.

 

"Have you engaged in a threesome?" T'Pring asked, earning her a glare from Spock.

 

"Okay, who here has?" Kirk lifted his hand.

 

T'Pring's also shot up.

 

"Ah, perhaps that is one of the other opportunities I missed?" Spock sounded—and looked—seriously put out. Then he seemed to realize Chris's hand wasn't up. "You have not, either?"

 

"Well, you don't need to sound so surprised."

 

"You just are just so sexually free—so many relationships. I assumed..."

 

T'Pring shot him a look women had undoubtedly been giving men for centuries. "There is a human saying I recently learned during my studies, Spock. To assume makes an ass out of you and me. Which, of course, does not make sense even if one misspells 'you,' but it is somewhat apt for this moment, do you not agree?"

 

Wait, was she defending Chris's right to be sexually free?

 

"What she said." Chris sounded as shocked as he was.

 

"I believe our mix of experiences would make for an interesting time if we ever decide we would like to try swinging." She said it as if she was announcing it was time for dessert. Then she looked right at Spock, her eyes narrowing. "Swinging is not the same as cheating. Because both partners agree to do it."

 

Kirk could feel Chris go very still next to him.

 

T'Pring's voice was different—deceptively mellow? "I will follow Jim's lead. Who here has cheated? Raise your hand."

 

"Does it count if you weren't exclusive? Like if you just had multiple partners but one of them didn't understand he wasn't the only one?" Chris sounded very sincere in her desire for clarification.

 

Probably because she was trying to divert attention from the man who'd cheated on T'Pring with her, the man who could not lie and who looked like he was about to raise his hand.

 

He decided to jump in and help. "I was still with someone but she accused me of cheating so often I finally did it." He looked at Chris. "Does that count?"

 

"I think it does. But you had reason."

 

"For sure. She was batshit crazy."

 

"An interesting term," T'Pring said. "I have not heard it before."

 

"It goes back to the old term 'bats in the belfry.'"

 

"It does?" Chris looked dubious. "That makes no sense."

 

"Sure it does. When churches were abandoned and the bells weren't rung anymore to scare them off, bats would start to live in the belfry. So the first saying is that someone is so dim only bats live in their head. But then if the bats have been there long enough, the place gets covered in bat scat and you have craziness."

 

"I believe the saying more has to do with guano, Jim." Spock looked super uncomfortable calling him by his first name. He was a little surprised he did it, but then again the two of them were working like hell to protect little old unfaithful him so... "Prolonged exposure can bring about illness."

 

"Sure, histoplasmosis, but not mental illness," Chris said, sounding very much the scientist. And very much losing the point of this exercise in the process.

 

He gently knocked her leg with his hand.

 

"But, wait, you might be right, Spock. I think I read something about there being some kind of link..." Weak, but better.

 

T'Pring, meanwhile, was sitting back and watching, a look he couldn't read on her face. Finally she said, "You all are well aware that I am far more interested in who has cheated than in bat guano." She held up her hand before anyone could speak. "However, the effort put into not answering my question is, ironically, quite reassuring to me. It might be a self-serving effort on two of your parts, but I have the impression it is not to cover up ongoing infidelities."

 

Neither Spock nor Chris said anything. They both looked down at their plates like rank amateurs.

 

Which they clearly were. And he loved that. This wasn't who they were, just what they'd done. He hoped T'Pring understood that too.

 

He met her eyes and smiled gently. "I think you are a very wise woman."

 

"I am."

 

"I also think you're a kind one. Spock is very lucky."

 

"As is Christine." Her look changed. "As to whether you and I are fortunate, Jim. Only time will tell." She held out her glass to him, not to the other two, who were still staring at their goddamned plates. He'd remember not to take them on any landing parties where acting was required.

 

He gently clinked his glass against her. "May time and fate be gentle with our hearts."

 

"Humanly put, but acceptable."

 

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