Title: What We Feel (1/?)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Pairing: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Disclaimer: Lord knows, I don’t own these great characters.
Summary: Spock asks Jim and Leonard to consider their future together.
Or read at AO3

So… remember when I said I had a dream about the trio (after the one that spawned Hearts Three and None to Spare) which needed to marinate in my brain before writing? It’s ready! This is the first part.
~~~ denotes a break in time sequence, often to the past. We’ll be jumping back and forth in order to build the story – and its conclusion. ;)

Part One

The basic formula: decide and act.

A Vulcan such as Spock does not live his life, per se, by formulas—as logic cannot be formulated, only postulated by the philosophical mind and used with discretion—but he is not above approaching a difficult choice through simple steps.

The unpredictable factor, however, is the reaction to his action.

“Are you crazy!”

Doctor McCoy is so flustered that he forgets to toss one of his usual insults into his cry of disbelief.

“I am of sound mind, Leonard.”

Spock watches as the doctor takes a step back even as Spock’s mouth shapes that familiarity (which the Vulcan uses only rarely). Perhaps, in addition to startling McCoy, it tells the man that Spock’s proposition is not made in jest.

Where as Jim had met his stare unflinchingly, with gravity, Leonard instead chooses to look anywhere but at Spock.

The human’s voice is nervous, as he talks. “I musta heard you wrong, Spock. I—”

McCoy’s eyes flick upwards to his gaze briefly, a shock of blue. Then those eyes are downcast again, that head bent as if praying. Spock knew that this particular human would present a greater challenge; thus, why he opted to confront Jim first.

“I don’t know what to say,” answers the doctor after a pregnant pause.

“Words are not necessary at this time. I understand that you shall wish to consider your response.”

Leonard crosses his arms and that, more than any other reaction, hints that Spock’s offer has disturbed the doctor. Once the human nods shortly, walks out of the room, Spock un-clenches the hands behind his back. His palms are indented with the marks of blunt nails pressed too forcefully into flesh.

He had expected a certain degree of unease, yet the Vulcan must still strengthen his resolve—and his emotional control—in case either Jim or Leonard (or both) reject his formal request for, as his mother would say, “a relationship of the heart.”

Some time later, while attempting to meditate in his quarters off-duty, Spock of Vulcan will recall words that, long ago, could have gently nudged him towards today’s circumstances.

~~~
before…

“There you are, Spock.”

He turns his head to see Amanda Grayson, his human mother. Her eyes light on him from across the room and Spock does not deny the relieved pleasure he feels at her presence. Spock subtly shifts his arm, and she obliges him by slipping her arm through his, then pats his shoulder affectionately. They remain there, side by side, on the Observation Deck in a shroud of starlight.

“Doctor McCoy assures me that your father is healing well.”

“His words are rarely false,” Spock replies.

His mother makes a small hum in her throat. “His words are also colorful when he’s riled,” she says with a low laugh. “I would have stayed to watch him fuss at your captain, but I thought Jim’s dignity might appreciate my absence.”

“Yes. The doctor is… apt to strong emotional displays when stressed about the health of his patients.”

“Do you like him, Spock?”

Spock looks down at his mother, who apparently has been sneaking long glances at her son for some minutes. He is uncertain of what response she seeks.

“I respect Doctor McCoy’s performance as a healer.”

“I asked you if you like him, Spock, not how you feel about the man as a colleague.” She leans into him for a split-second, as if to emphasize her point. “Humor your poor mother, dear.”

“Our relations are… manageable.”

Her mouth stretches in a smile. “You mean that he challenges your logic, you point out his flaws, and neither of you concedes ground.”

His mother’s assessment is not incorrect so Spock cannot argue.

“Do you know what I think?”

“I would not presume to know your thoughts, Mother,” he answers in such a way that she tells him he sounds like Sarek.

But Amanda Grayson will not be deterred from this conversation about Spock and McCoy. “You do like the doctor; otherwise you would not bother to respond to him with anything other than strict professionalism.”

He blinks. “Professionalism is a requirement of conduct.” He means Of course I am professional but his mother—with her human perception—might misconstrue those words as a childish denial.

“Yes, love,” she says as her hand squeezes his forearm, “but there are ways to remain professional and stay engaged on a friendly level.”

Friendly. She suggests that he is friends with Leonard McCoy. Spock considers this possibility and concludes that it must indeed be true. The Vulcan would not admit to surprise.

She removes her arm from his, a clear signal that this talk between them is complete. Except, after his mother states that she will return to the medical bay to watch over Sarek, she pauses at the exit to the Observation Deck and turns back to say softly, “I know that you considered your years of service under Pike to be satisfactory, but this Enterprise—Captain Kirk’s Enterprise—is doing you so much more good.” Her words ring with sincerity. “I’m happy for you, Spock.”

He does not respond—and not entirely because his mother has disappeared into the corridor beyond hearing range.

~~~

Bones looks like someone steam-rolled him from behind and then backed up and did it again. Several times.

Jim is sympathetic because he doesn’t feel much better. While he knows why he is exhausted, he only has an inkling about Bones.

Then Leonard McCoy drops into a seat opposite the captain at the table in the sparsely populated mess hall and announces, “I’m in trouble, Jimmy.”

So he does know what is bothering Bones.

Jim winces, says, “Do you want to talk about it?” and then mentally slaps himself.

Bones’ glare is nothing short of I’d skewer you where you sat if I had a fork in my hand.

“Sorry.” Then, seeing the instant droop of McCoy’s shoulders, he adds, “You’re worked up. Over Spock.”

The doctor looks at him in surprise. “He told you.” A spark of life returns to the man, who narrows his eyes in a too familiar way. “Why that… I shoulda known! What is this? A joke? Because it sure as hell ain’t funny to me, Jim!“

“No!” Jim reaches over and places a firm hand on the man’s wrist, to quiet McCoy’s budding anger. “Spock didn’t tell me—well he told me, but he told me in the same way that he told you.” At Bones’ confusion, he clarifies, “Spock said to me what he said to you, except concerning he and I rather than you and him.”

Jim has officially confused himself so it is probably a good thing that McCoy draws back in sudden understanding.

“You’re sayin,” his friend says slowly, accent thick, “that Spock has decided he—” The man swallows hard, as if the words refuse to be voiced. With a sigh (that sounds more like a whimper, Jim wisely doesn’t point out), Leonard gives up. The doctor asks, voice small, “He meant it, didn’t he?”

Jim nods. “Yes, he did.”

~~~
before…

“Captain, may we speak in private?”

Jim agrees to Spock’s request because it is not often that the Vulcan comes directly to him without McCoy’s prodding or Jim dropping large hints that they need to talk about whatever issue is clearly ailing his First Officer. Even stranger, however, is the fact that Jim is not aware of any situation which would require Spock to seek him out for a private discussion.

Naturally that increases Kirk’s worry tenfold.

He is pacing, unable to remain still or focused on paperwork, by the time the chronometer marks the hour of Spock’s arrival. Spock appears on cue, in no apparent rush. Nor can Jim pick out visible signs of distress or agitation in the Vulcan’s body language.

His shoulders relax somewhat when Spock greets him as “Jim.” In return he offers his friend a seat at a small table used for solitary meals or report-reading, already wondering if a game of chess would help ease the conversation so that Spock can say what he needs to say.

Unfortunately, Jim often forgets that once Spock has made up his mind to do something, distractions are unnecessary—and frowned upon—until the goal in question is obtained.

“I will stand if you do not object,” Spock says in lieu of sitting in a vacant chair.

That stills Kirk. He stares intently at Spock for some seconds before saying, unknowingly in his captain’s voice, “What is it? What’s happened?” What’s going to happen that demands the captain’s attention before the rest of the ship?

Suddenly he wishes for Bones, who would have forced Spock to sit and said, “Now there ain’t no point in elevatin’ Jim’s blood pressure, Spock! And, Jim? A Vulcan would look dire even if he were discussing the color of posies for his sweetheart’s hair. Let’s see what Spock has to say first before we arm the photon torpedoes.”

Let’s see. McCoy says it in his head and so Jim obeys.

He breathes deeply. “Forgive me. I— Never mind.” He purposefully strides over to his console and ensures that his quarters are sheltered from the computer’s monitoring and recording systems. “I assume you wish this discussion to remain off the record, Mr. Spock.”

“That would be wise,” answers the Vulcan.

Jim looks up at that, thinks he catches a fleeting touch of amusement in Spock’s otherwise monotone voice. The man straightens. “Proceed,” he says after attempting to relieve the strange tightness of his throat.

“I like you, Jim.”

James Kirk has slammed into unforgiving force-fields, been punched by oversized giants, and was once head-butted by a Klingon wearing a helmet made of titanium. None of those experiences prepares him for the impact of his First Officer’s blunt confession. His mind staggers.

“Spock?”

Then the obvious explanation strikes him. For some reason, Spock wants confirmation that Jim knows they are friends. The man, whose heart had inexplicably begun to pound, reins in his natural reaction, relaxes.

And smiles. “As I like you, Spock.” Prepared to drop the subject (for surely this must be an uncomfortable topic for a Vulcan to discuss in depth—and Jim isn’t exactly known for harping on the subject of love either, despite his open displays of affection to those for whom he cares), Jim says, “I know we are friends, Spock—and I am glad that we are. Why don’t you stay, if that’s the end of it? I seem to remember I promised you a rematch…” He reaches for the chess set.

“Jim.”

It is the way that Spock says his name alone—heavy with an undercurrent of there’s more—that causes Jim to drop his hands and half-turn towards Spock again.

“I am your friend,” the Vulcan states gravely. “I also wish to express a sentiment deeper than the friendship which exists between us.” There is a pause, uncharacteristic enough from Spock to alert Jim. “…Should you be amenable to listen further.”

Jim understands now why Spock wishes to stand; because were Jim himself in Spock’s position at this moment, he would remain on his feet too—if only to be that much closer to the door in case the reception of his words was painful. And since Jim understands, knows that his response matters (has the potential to damage the good feelings between them if he should choose such a path), he gives Spock the courtesy of not running away or dismissing the Vulcan’s desire to speak of something so intimate.

Spock is motionless now, like he dares not draw a breath until Jim tells him to.

How much courage does it take, Jim wonders, for a person taught to restrain the expression of emotion to verbalize the truth of his own feelings?

“Spock,” he begins slowly, searching for the right words. “I won’t deny that I am surprised or… hesitant, but what has brought you to me tonight is an emotion I would never fault you for. You asked that I listen. I’m listening.”

He essentially hands Spock the conversational ball, hoping Spock knows what to do with it, and a part of him—an unexpectedly large part—wants to hear more.

The Vulcan, an officer under his command and always a friend by his side, approaches Jim until they are an arm’s length apart.

“I have considered the matter of my feelings for some time—”

Meaning that for innumerable hours Spock has struggled, bound by reason and yet faced with an emotion that cannot be dismissed or otherwise locked away. Jim feels keenly, with an almost tremble of his heart, for Spock.

“—and drawn the conclusion that what I feel does not stem from an outside source or result from an unnatural phenomenon.”

Perhaps if Jim were a different man (who led a less dangerous life) he would feel slighted by the insinuation that Spock needed to verify the purity of his feelings before accepting them; but they both know, as officers with experience on unusual battlefields and as men who have individually suffered under foreign influence time and time again, that caution can prevent a (often fatal) mistake.

He nods to show his understanding, to show that he is still attentive to Spock’s words.

“Jim,” Spock continues to say, “I do not wish to cause you distress. I do not seek to force what does not exist. Yet I-I find that I must know if you reciprocate what I feel.” Those dark eyes implore Jim to release him from the uncertainty of not knowing.

Jim was in love once. He remembers distinctly the sensation of being consumed, as if from the inside out; and he remembers the despair that can swiftly follow it. Sometimes a man’s fears are warranted. This he understands too well, a hint of bitter memory like ash in his mouth.

Honesty is all that he can offer. “I don’t know, Spock. You want a clear yes or no.” He realizes, “I cannot give you either, not yet. Will you allow me time to decide?”

His response is accepted with more ease than Jim had hoped for. Spock thanks him as though Jim has laid the galaxy at Spock’s feet.

He does have one question. “What made you come to me?”

Spock understands that Jim is not asking about the emotion itself but what prompted the Vulcan to end his long silence.

The answer is simple. “The probability of survival for an officer on active duty is… volatile. I would have there be no regret, upon my death, that you never knew you were loved.”

Jim swallows and forces his tears to remain in his eyes. “Thank you for telling me.”

Spock slowly unclasps his hands and stares at Jim for a moment longer. Jim does not expect Spock to say, “I must go, Captain. Doctor McCoy has agreed to speak with me also in precisely ten point sixteen minutes.”

Kirk’s brain works hard to make the connection. “Bones?” What does Bones have to—

Oh.

Impossible.

He doesn’t realize his jaw has dropped until he has to close his mouth. “Spock,” he fumbles, “are you—with Bones—”

“Affirmative.”

Maybe Spock is crazy after all.

“Both of us?“

“Affirmative.”

He waves his hand weakly in a gesture of okay, that’s enough and I need to lie down.

Spock, astute as always, nods once, pivots, and leaves Jim Kirk to ponder his thoughts until he falls into a weary and confused tangle of dreams.

Footnotes:
1. Second scene was a fictional extension of the episode Journey to Babel.

So… worth continuing?

Next Part

Related Posts:

• What We Feel (12/12) – from April 2, 2011
• What We Feel (11/12) – from April 2, 2011
• What We Feel (10/12) – from March 28, 2011
• What We Feel (9/?) – from March 26, 2011
• What We Feel (8/?) – from March 23, 2011