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The fight had been nasty—or at least as nasty as a fight ever got between James T. Kirk, who knew he was always right, and his Vulcan First Officer (and secret lover) who would not give Kirk the satisfaction of letting him know that his feelings were hurt…because he didn’t have feelings. No, really, he DIDN’T HAVE FEELINGS.


Except that Kirk knew better.


After the shouting and swearing (on his part) and the cutting retorts and icy looks (Spock’s contribution to the fray), Kirk had ended the argument with that time-honored, all-purpose rejoinder, “Fuck you!” and had slammed off into his own quarters (just across the corridor from Spock’s, providing easy access when they were getting along and an easy retreat on the fortunately rare occasions when they weren’t), where he proceeded to lock the door, block all but Red Alert-level messages, and throw himself onto his bunk, managing to crack his head on the bookshelf/headboard and adding another “Fuck!” bringing his total for the week to fourteen (it had been a very bad week).


His temper cooled long before the ache in his head faded. God damn it, he hated to fight with Spock. He loved the Vulcan with all the intensity of a man who was not only naturally demonstrative but who had been starved for affection for most of his early life. When he and Spock had finally gotten together, he had sworn to himself that this was one relationship he was not going to fuck up with his ego, his libido, or any of those other o’s that Bones, closet shrink that he enjoyed being, was always tormenting him with.


The fight had been idiotic, anyway. It wasn’t Kirk’s fault that the new Bridge Yeoman (what was her name? Randall? Rant? Rand? Randy? No, not Randy, not with a rack like hers) thought that the Captain of the Enterprise was the hottest piece of man candy in the quadrant. God damn it, he was the hottest piece of man candy in the quadrant. It was one of the reasons Spock loved him, even though the snotty Vulcan would never admit it to a soul. What the hell was Kirk supposed to do when Yeoman Rack sat down across from him in the officers’ mess? Shoot her? Pour hot coffee on her? Tell her and everyone within earshot that while he had been a pussy-chasing horn dog for the first 20-odd years of his life, one night with a Vulcan bat in his hands (and his mouth and his ass) had convinced Kirk to play for the other team? He was the captain. He had to at least be polite to the girl. All he’d said was, “You have a unique way of wearing your hair” (frankly, it looked like a basket-weaving project, but Kirk wasn’t going to hurt her feelings), and the next thing he knew, Spock was accusing him of infidelity. What utter bullshit.


Kirk sighed. He knew Spock was hurt. Kirk had tried to make him see the truth, but nothing he’d said had gotten through. He sat up on his bunk and considered going back across the hall and trying again. After a moment, he decided that now was not the time. He’d get some sleep, get up early, and talk to Spock before Alpha shift. By then (hopefully), Spock would be willing to listen to reason.




Sleep was elusive at best, but Kirk finally managed to nod off. Less than 30 minutes later, he came awake with a start. The cabin was totally dark (the way he liked it), and there was no noise, but suddenly, Kirk knew he was not alone. “Lights 10%,” he managed to croak, and the room slowly illuminated itself, revealing Spock kneeling alongside Kirk’s bed, frozen in the dim light like a Klingon ship in a tractor beam.


Kirk blinked sleep from his eyes. “Spock?” he frowned. “Is there an emergency?”


The Vulcan looked at the floor for a long moment, then back up at his lover. “No.” The voice was so quiet that Kirk could scarcely hear him. “I…I just wanted to…to see if you were all right. I will go now.” But he didn’t move, still kneeling beside Kirk’s bunk with his hands gripping the edge of the mattress.


Understanding shot into Kirk’s mind. Just wanted to check on me, huh? Check on me by overriding the lock on my door and kneeling by my bed like Prince Charming mooning over Snow White? All right, mister; I’ll pretend I don’t know better. His whole being was overcome with the warm tide of feeling his Vulcan provoked in him so easily. He looked at his love, noticing the shiver that Spock could not quite repress. Since he had expected to sleep alone, Kirk had not re-set his temperature controls to the higher Vulcan norm that he usually provided out of consideration for Spock’s preferences. He quickly moved over on the bunk and raised the blankets.


“Come on,” he said.


Spock stiffened. “Captain, I assure you, I did not come here to…”


“Yeah, yeah I know,” Kirk said. He motioned with his head, still holding the blankets open. “There are few things worse than a chilly, sad Vulcan, and I’m not having one in my quarters. “Now get in here.”


Spock had apparently concluded that they had argued enough for one evening, because he rose and slipped into Kirk’s bed. Kirk tucked the blankets around them both, slipping his left arm under Spock’s neck and wrapping his right arm around the Vulcan’s waist, pulling him gently backwards until their bodies were lightly pressed together. Slowly, gently, he began to run his hand up and down Spock’s arm, rubbing warmth into the chilled flesh with every gentle caress.


Spock lay on his side, his body stiff and his face turned away from Kirk’s. “Jim, you should know that our earlier discussion has not been resolved to my satisfaction and…” he broke off as he felt a pair of warm lips tenderly brush the back of his neck.


“Shhh,” Kirk murmured. “We can fight again tomorrow. Right now, it is 01:17; I’m tired; you’re delicious, and I love you. If there are any other points of contention, we’ll settle them after a good night’s sleep.” He kissed Spock’s nape again and reached up to stroke that satiny ebony hair that he loved so dearly. He felt Spock begin to relax in his arms, and he continued the gentle, sleepy caresses as his Vulcan settled into his embrace. Just before he slipped into sleep, he heard Spock’s whisper:


“No points of contention remain. I love you, too.”


The next morning, Kirk transferred Yeoman Rand to Engineering.



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