‘Happy Valentine’s day, Spock.’
Spock cocked an eyebrow, looking quizzical.
‘What logic is there in St Valentine’s Day?’ he asked. ‘If one loves, surely one loves all the year round. One does not need a special day to prove it.’
Kirk smiled wryly, producing a wrapped parcel from behind his back. A single red rose lay on top of the dark paper.
‘Then I guess this is illogical?’ he asked with a sliver of regret in his voice.
Spock’s gaze became introspective as he picked up the long-stemmed rose between his fingers, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
‘My mother grew these in her sheltered garden on Vulcan,’ he said, caressing the petals softly with one fingertip. ‘I remember my father presenting her with one on the morning of February 14th, once…’
He looked up, a shade seeming to drop across his eyes.
‘That was long ago,’ he said, dismissing the memory from his mind.
He took the parcel from Kirk’s outstretched hand and unwrapped the paper. It was heavy and textured, and seemed to be handmade, and Spock wondered briefly how long Jim had kept this paper somewhere in his room where it would not be found. They had not visited a trading outpost for months.
‘T’Shel’s Ruminations,’ he said, reading the title of the book he found nestling inside the wrappings. ‘Jim, I have wanted this for many months now. How did you know?’
Jim smiled. Spock’s surprise was reward enough, no matter how illogical Valentine’s day was to him.
‘There are a lot of things in your mind, Spock,’ he said quietly. ‘Some of them are astoundingly intellectual, and to be honest, far beyond my reach. But you also have wants and needs, and I’m not blind to them. Like this,’ he said, leaning forward and pressing his lips softly against the Vulcan’s. ‘That’s a need.’
‘And a want,’ Spock murmured, placing the book ever so carefully on the desk, but not looking away from Jim for an instant. He was as caught in the sparkling hazel of Jim’s eyes as Jim was lost in the infinite dark depths of his own.
‘And a need…’ Kirk repeated as if he was reciting a chorus.
Wants and needs took them to the soft expanse of the bed behind the fretted room partition, and in being unwrapped, Spock became a Valentine’s gift of his own.