Chapter Text
Jim Kirk had almost died a few too many times since becoming the captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, which made it all the stranger that he was unbearably eager to board his ship and warp into deep space as soon as possible. Jim had been spending his days on Starbase Yorktown making daily trips to the base’s hangar to monitor the progress of the Enterprise’s repairs.
When he was not studying the piece by piece reconstruction of his beloved vessel, he was often assisting Commodore Paris and other Starfleet officials with preparation and strategy for various missions. His favorite activity on the base, however, was in training new members of the Starfleet force who came to Yorktown for specialized teaching and field experience. Jim felt a pang in his heart watching the young recruits undergoing the same process he had, what felt like a lifetime ago but in reality was not even ten years prior. Part of him worried that they would be discouraged by the constant perfection and obedience demanded by Starfleet just like he had been, that they might abandon their education, hopeless, and Starfleet would lose a potential hero.
Jim was more than happy to accept invitations to give lectures for classes on base, and he was not unhappy with the noticeably packed rooms that his lectures attracted. He found that the feeling of speaking in front of an enraptured audience was a lot like manning the helm of the Enterprise, his crew hanging expectantly on his every command.
“A captain constantly feels the pressure of the lives of everyone aboard their ship,” Jim warns, scanning the sea of wide-eyed recruits before him, “I feel this pressure every time I take my seat on the bridge of the Enterprise. With time, and admittedly a few learning experiences, I’ve realized that rather than letting this weight break me in those critical moments,” Jim steps down from the podium to pace thoughtfully before the class, his legs itching to move after standing at the podium for what feels like ages, “I can use it to ground me, to tamp down the inevitable panic, and make those hard decisions that could mean the difference between losing and saving lives. I believe that each one of you has this same potential, and I look forward to seeing what amazing feats you can accomplish with it. Thank you.”
He nods his head in a humble bow as the crowd erupts into passionate applause. Their praise makes his chest swell with pride and he smiles to himself despite the air of professionalism that he often struggles to put on.
Jim lets a small group of recruits gather around him as people file out of the room. He shakes eager hands and responds to almost excessive adoration with as modest thanks as he can manage. In the many faces in the room, Jim manages to spot that of Commander Spock near the entrance. He’s dressed more casually than usual in a tight fitting black turtleneck tucked into gray slacks, his eyes fixed on Jim.
He excuses himself politely from the company of the now disappointed recruits to greet his first officer, “What are you doing here?”
During his time on Yorktown, Spock had become one of the leading officials in the organization of the Vulcan community on base. As well as helping to construct more comfortable living spaces for the survivors that decided to remain on the starbase instead of relocate to New Vulcan, he had been collecting firsthand accounts of life on Vulcan and adding hundreds of transcribed interviews to the Federation’s database. Jim rarely saw him anymore except for several minutes of brief conversation in passing as they each went about their separate business. While he was often in awe of the incredible work that Spock had been doing, Jim would occasionally find himself craving the presence of his infuriatingly headstrong friend.
“I have heard many commendable evaluations of your classroom lectures and wished to attend one in order to determine the accuracy of said evaluations.” Spock replies casually, hands clasped behind his back.
Jim laughs, “So what do you think? Do I live up to the hype, Commander?”
Spock glances at the last of the recruits as the room empties, “I admit a noticeable change in the demeanor of students after you speak that I have attributed to an increase in their confidence and general resolve. From this I would deem your lecturing abilities to be quite effective. If you had taken a different path, you might have become a distinguished Starfleet Academy instructor by now.”
Jim warms at the compliment and can’t help but give him an appreciative shoulder squeeze before teasing, “Wow, Spock, you should be careful giving me such blindingly enthusiastic praise or I might choke on my growing ego.”
Spock raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on the irrationality of his statement. His face remains neutral as ever but Jim is able to detect a smile in Spock’s eyes that he hasn’t seen in a while.
They walk side by side in comfortable silence as they leave the academic sector of the starbase and head towards the central atrium. Jim absently watches the throngs of people around them, amazed for the thousandth time while living on base at the vast diversity of races that manages to coexist in the same glass bubble.
“I’m surprised you found time to attend a lecture with all the work you’ve been doing for the Committee for the Preservation of Endangered Cultures.” Jim finally says.
“It is true that I have devoted a considerable number of hours to the Committee’s activities,” Spock concedes, “however, I recently completed the transcription for the interview of the last remaining Vulcan survivor on base, so I felt it would be wise to engage in other activities for a short period.”
Jim frowns, glancing at Spock. “Listening to all of those stories about your home planet... All that’s left of such a beautiful civilization... I can’t imagine that must have been easy for you.”
“I can assure you, Captain, that I am more than skilled in such a field of work,” Jim glares at Spock meaningfully, “but if you were referring to the emotional ease of my project, I found it was rather... therapeutic to document the day to day lives of those who lived on Vulcan. The human concept of ‘nostalgia’ is not inaccurate in describing my attitude towards the experience.”
Jim nods, thinking about his own childhood in Nowhere, Iowa. He may not have as strong a connection to his home but even he would be devastated if the places he knew growing up were suddenly obliterated into nothingness. He, too, might find comfort in reminiscing with those who shared his happier memories.
“Maybe you should be on New Vulcan, helping your people.” The thought of not having Spock by his side on the bridge of the Enterprise twists his insides, but Jim would feel infinitely worse if Spock would be happier and more productive among his own species.
“I have already considered the matter and concluded that I would be more fulfilled as first officer of the Enterprise, wherever that may take me.”
Jim doesn’t doubt that Spock has already considered it, but he worries that Spock might feel some sort of obligation to follow him into the dangers of unexplored space, whether to protect Jim from his own rash decisions or because he knows that Jim would be unhappy to have to part ways after all they’ve been through. They make an effective team, and Jim is doubtful that he’d be able to find the same dynamic with someone else. He pauses to look over the nearby railing into the market square beneath and thinks to himself that these are not unreasonable concerns.
Spock must sense Jim’s doubt because he continues, “My place is beside you, Jim, for now and always. Trust that if I felt otherwise, I would not hesitate to tell you.”
Jim looks up to meet Spock’s intense gaze, stunned by the sincerity of his words. His shoulders relax the tension that he didn’t realize they were holding and Jim is suddenly grateful that his first officer knows him well enough to know exactly what to say to ease his mind.
Realizing that their conversation has become almost uncomfortably serious, he quickly replies with a scoff, “I’ll try to remember that the next time we’re at each other’s throats, arguing on the bridge. Don’t speak too soon Commander, you of all people should know I have a unique talent to drive people insane.”
“I have noticed that you possess a number of unique talents, Captain.” Jim thinks he sees a slight smirk on Spock’s face before they continue walking.
They stroll for a while casually discussing their time on Yorktown, catching up after the weeks they’d gone without really seeing each other. They settle back into a familiar rhythm despite their time apart, and Jim is struck by how few people can make him feel as at ease as Spock does. It might have something to do with how many times they’ve each almost died and also saved each others’ lives. He supposes that such experiences are bound to bring two people closer together.
Neither of them notice as the lights throughout the starbase begin to dim. Although the sun near the base is almost always shining, the base runs on a 25 hour day where a darkening screen rolls down each glass panel around late afternoon, sending the base into an artificial night.
Jim suddenly hears a ping from his communicator and opens it to see a message from Lieutenant Uhura:
- Do you have plans tonight? Scotty, Bones, and I are going to the bar next to the Talaxian diner
“Uhura is asking me if I have plans tonight.” He looks to Spock.
“If you would like to take your leave now I would not mind-”
“Are you busy tonight?” Jim interrupts.
Spock looks somewhat taken aback. “I do not believe I have anything on my schedule for this evening but I-”
“You’re coming to the bar with us.” Jim declares, already typing his response.
- No plans. Spock and I were just catching up. You got room for two more?
- Always. Meet us there in half an hour!
“I am unsure that I would be welcome to accompany you-” Spock begins.
“Look, Uhura says she wants you there!” Jim interrupts once again, showing Spock the message on his communicator.
Uhura and Spock didn’t get back together once they’d all gotten settled on Yorktown, to the shock of most of the crew, but from what Jim could tell they remained friendly. He’d spoken to Uhura about it briefly one day over lunch and he’d gathered that the separation was mutual, though Spock had felt the need to give Uhura probably more space than she needed. Uhura is not the sensitive, heartbroken human that Spock might think she is, but Jim figures that Uhura is appreciative of the effort. Regardless, he’s been thinking it’s about time they stop being awkward around each other.
Before Spock can protest again, Jim puts an arm around his shoulder and says, “Do you sense that, Spock? Something in the air tonight tells me that I should get ridiculously hammered.”
Spock lets out a frustrated sigh but doesn’t stop Jim from dragging him in the direction of the bar that Jim already knows the location of by heart. It’s only natural that he spend some time during his stay becoming acquainted with the location of every seller of alcohol on base.
<> <> <>
Jim pretends not to notice how Spock stiffens as they enter the bar. The warmly lit room only about three times the size of the Captain’s quarters on the Enterprise is comfortably crowded with a diverse group of chattering beings. Jim immediately feels at home as the scents of cheap whiskey and sweat reach his nose. Spock, on the other hand, seems to be seconds from turning and walking right back out the door.
Before Spock can think twice, Jim quickly spots Uhura, Scotty, and Bones at a semicircular booth near the back of the bar. “Hey guys!” he calls to them, tugging Spock along behind him by the wrist.
“Oh Christ,” Bones rolls his eyes, “Uhura, did you know Jim was going to bring the hobgoblin?”
Uhura smiles at them as Jim slides in next to Scotty, Spock sliding in after him, “I did, actually. I’m convinced that you don’t like having Spock around only because he analyzes you a little too accurately.”
Scotty laughs, “God forbid we migh’ actually git to know each other afder years aboard the same ship.”
“Let’s not gang up on each other for one night, maybe?” Jim chuckles at the petulant face that Bones is making as he sips his brandy.
Spock sits uncomfortably on the edge of the booth, opposite Uhura, with his hands folded in his lap. “If my presence is making anyone uncomfortable I would not be opposed to retiring to my apartment.”
“No, Spock,” Uhura assures him, glaring at Bones, “you are more than welcome here. I apologize in advance for the potential inconvenience of four drunk humans later tonight.”
Jim meets Spock’s eyes for a moment and gives him an apologetic look. He always found it unfortunate that Vulcan biology allowed them to process alcohol too fast to feel its effects. He’d given up trying long ago to find a way to get Spock into any state of intoxication, and as far as he knew Vulcan bodies could process anything without a problem.
The bar’s only waitress, a kind looking Betazoid woman with curly blonde hair, stops by their table to take Jim’s order for a bourbon and Spock’s for just a glass of water.
“Aye, fellas!” Scotty raises his glass in cheers. “We celebratin’ the near completion of her royal highness the U.S.S. Enterprise! Tha calls for a night o’ drinkin’ til I can’t see straight.”
“Now, that I can get behind.” Bones raises his glass, too.
The waitress returns and slides Jim’s drink across the table to him with a wink.
“Thanks.” He says, meeting her deep black eyes for a sultry moment while Bones and Scotty snicker to themselves. Uhura simply raises her eyebrows, along with her glass.
Spock, on the other hand, looks decidedly put off having had a front row seat to such a blatant show of flirtation. Considering the modesty and sophistication of Vulcan courtship and his lack of experience in bars, he’s probably not used to it. Jim has the urge to apologize to him but quickly dismisses it because he’s Captain James T. Kirk and he never apologizes for being irresistibly charming.
“Alright, you guys. Cheers to returning to the great unknown frontier of space!” Jim proclaims, raising his glass to meet those of his friends with a satisfying cacophony of clinks.
After they’ve each taken a long sip of their drinks, Scotty laments, “Bloody hell, I ain’t gotta chance of gettin’ anyone’s attention with Jimmy and Uhura at the table.”
“Hey, speak for yourself buddy,” Bones takes a swig, “I’ve been getting plenty, thank you very much. Some of us don’t have to rely on the superficial shit to get laid.”
“Are you implying that all I do is sit there and look pretty?” Jim laughs.
Uhura scoffs, “Isn’t that what you do as captain?”
Jim makes a mock offended expression with a hand on his chest as the rest of them laugh. It’s been a long time since he’d spent time with close friends like this. He hadn’t realized how lonely he’d been until now, which makes his chest ache with gratitude to whatever all-powerful being gave him this life he’s sure he doesn’t deserve. He’s going to take advantage of it, regardless of how deserving he is.
After about three more whiskeys and going around the table sharing stories from their adventures aboard the Enterprise, Jim starts to feel the effects of the alcohol making him loose and warm. There’s nothing like inebriation to help Jim relax the pressures of his position that constantly weigh on him. When he’s with these people, who truly know him, who truly care, he can finally be himself.
Spock is in the middle of describing in almost gorey detail the exact sensation of punching Khan in the face, to an enraptured audience, when the waitress returns once more with refills.
“I hope you all are enjoying your night so far?”
“Of course,” Jim replies, “all thanks to your truly amazing service.” He gives her his most genuine smile and a seductive wink.
It seems to do the trick because she blushes and tosses her blonde curls over her shoulder as she takes their empty glasses. Jim watches her as she walks to the bar and notices the way she exaggerates the movement of her hips with each step, knowing damn well that he’s watching her.
“By god, Jim,” Bones says, his mouth hanging open, “maybe you do know how to smooth talk.”
“No, no, no!” Scotty stammers, “Birds love a man with an accent. Here’s wah I do:” He turns to Uhura, leaning forward with his head resting on his palm, “why hello there, lassie. Seems I’ve forgottin my phone number. Think I could have yers instead?”
Jim absolutely cracks up at Scotty’s cheesy pickup line, which turns out to be ten times less smooth in a heavily slurred Scottish accent.
Uhura covers her mouth with her hand to keep from spitting out her drink. “I’m certainly speechless.”
Scotty sits back looking satisfied with himself while Bones pipes up, “Naw, that’s not how you win a lady over. You gotta do all the talking with your eyes, man.”
He lifts his arm to rest it on the booth behind Uhura’s head, tilting his head down slightly so that he’s looking at her through his eyelashes. He licks his lips, maybe just a little too sloppily to be attractive, and croons, “Hi darlin’, I couldn’t help but notice that you might need some company this fine evening.”
Crossing her legs and batting her eyelashes, Uhura puts on her best southern accent, “Oh good heavens, I knew chivalry ain’t dead yet!”
“No, ya wee cunt. Yer just givin’ her a death stare. You’re gonna send her runnin’ out the door!”
Bones turns to Scotty beside him, almost spilling his drink as he shifts to put his arm around Scotty’s shoulders, “No, look! The trick is to look up so you give ‘em the puppy dog eyes. It makes women want to take care of you, ya know?” He gives Scotty the same look he gave Uhura and Scotty makes a face like he smells something bad.
“Jimmy, would’ya tell this bastard he’s bein’ a right creep?”
Jim sets his drink down and shrugs, “I dunno, Scotty, it’s a lot better than shitty one-liners.”
Scotty laughs and gives his thigh a hardy smack. “Alrigh’ then, how about this one,” He puts a sweaty hand on Jim’s and says, “I know yer not from around here, laddie, ‘cause that arse is outta this world!”
Uhura snorts and has to set her drink down to keep from spilling it. Bones slaps Scotty on the back and lets out a drunken laugh. Jim even thinks he sees Spock smiling behind the rim of his glass of water.
Throughout the night Jim had been peripherally aware of Spock becoming more comfortable next to him. He’s no longer sitting with his back perfectly straight and when Jim every so often happens to lean slightly into him to avoid Scotty’s flailing arms, he doesn’t feel Spock stiffen at the closeness. But he can’t help the worry in the back of his mind that Spock might still feel unwelcome among them.
“Listen up, guys, this is how it’s really done,” He turns to his other side to face Spock, who raises his eyebrows when Jim rests his elbow on the booth beside Spock’s head, taking a moment to look the perfectly groomed Vulcan up and down. “I don’t usually do this but... I just can’t stop looking at you from across the room. Truly, I think just the sight of you has made my entire night.” Jim bites his lip just a little bit and continues, “I think the least I can do to return the favor is buy you a drink.”
Uhura breaks into light applause at his performance. Bones whistles from the other side of the booth and Scotty mutters, “Well, he ain’t got a reputation for nuthin’.”
Spock doesn’t say anything for a while, his mouth just barely hanging open, and while he tries his best to maintain eye contact despite his intoxication, Jim feels like he’s swimming in Spock’s dark eyes. He can’t tell whether or not it’s the alcohol that’s making him feel lost at sea.
Then, Spock is setting his drink on the table and closing a few more inches of distance between them, the look in his eyes pinning Jim to his seat, unable to move. “I find that I am unable to refuse such a generous offer.” Jim can feel the heat of Spock’s breath on his face and it almost makes him shiver. “I think you’ll find that I am unable to refuse any offer you make me. After all... it is against my nature not to cherish beauty when I see it.”
Jim is completely stunned, his face burning. He was unaware that Spock was capable of being even remotely provocative. In hindsight, it explained how he’d been able to score a woman as gorgeous as Uhura. Suddenly that moment in the transporter room just before he and Spock were going to be beamed onto the Romulan ship Narada to confront Nero came into his mind. He remembered watching Spock kiss Uhura with unusually human passion.
“Son of a bitch,” Bones says, breaking the silence, “even the cold-blooded elf has some game.”
Jim is shaken out of his stupor when Scotty slaps a hand on his shoulder, “He’s dumbstruck, the poor bastard!” Jim nervously laughs along with him, wondering why he feels like all the breath has just been knocked out of him.
Uhura, apparently, was not oblivious to the moment that just transpired because she takes a long sip of her drink, eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them. Jim makes eye contact with her briefly, giving her an incredulous look that she responds to with a knowing smile. He’s not sure exactly what that smile means but it scares him just a little bit.
He promptly attempts to forget what just happened by finishing his drink and ordering another. He continues the rest of the night laughing along to Bones and Scotty’s drunken shenanigans, all the while trying his best to avoid looking at Spock sitting right next to him.
After a couple more rounds of drinks, the bar begins to empty out. Scotty has the bright idea of trying to get up on top of the table but he ends up spilling his drink on Bones and the bartender starts giving their booth a dirty look.
“I think it might be time to head out, you guys.” Uhura announces, looking a little flushed but otherwise as regal and graceful as ever.
Jim, on the other hand, is nearly about to fall asleep on the table. He rubs a hand down his face and groans.
“That would be most advisable.” Spock agrees.
Uhura and Spock each slide out of the booth with Bones following soon after, still cussing Scotty out for staining his shirt. Uhura helps Scotty up out of his seat while Spock heads to the bartender to take care of the most likely exorbitant bill.
Jim tries his best to get out of the booth on his own without stumbling but he has to maintain a tight grip on the table to keep from wobbling.
“You okay, Captain?” Uhura asks, putting an arm around his shoulder to steady him.
Jim blinks quickly to try and stop the room from spinning. “Yep, m’good. S’totally fine.”
Despite his insistence, Uhura places one of his arms around her neck to stabilize him. As he’s heading for the door, Jim turns to give a little wave in the direction of the waitress. Unfortunately, his vision is a little too blurry to see how she responds, but in his head he imagines her blowing him a kiss on his way out.
“Homeward bound, laddies!” Scotty shouts into the empty walkway outside of the bar, leaning on Bones as the two walk on ahead.
Jim realizes a little too late that he’s putting most of his weight on Uhura, causing her to stagger.
“Fuck, m’sorry.” he mutters, trying to hold himself up.
“I’ve got him, Nyota.” Spock appears on his other side, a strong arm wrapping around his waist. He’s not sure why, exactly, but the touch startles him, his heart pounding just a little bit faster.
“Well,” Uhura scoffs, “If you insist.” She takes a moment to brush herself off and says under her breath, “I think our captain is a lightweight.”
Jim swings around to face Uhura, nearly twisting Spock’s neck as he does so. “Hey! Am not!”
“Your current condition says otherwise, Jim.” Bones calls over his shoulder. Scotty breaks into a fit of laughter.
They all spend the rest of the way to the residential quadrant just enjoying each other’s company. Every once in a while Scotty breaks the silence with an inebriated rendition of Abba, and sometimes Jim joins in. He feels that ache in his chest again, the one he gets when things seem just too good to be true. He wonders how long it will take for the peace to be shattered, because it always shatters eventually.
The group reaches an intersection and they begin to go their separate ways for the night, but not before a round of slurred goodbyes. Maybe it’s the alcohol that’s making him emotional but watching all of his friends walk off into the night is more bittersweet than he’d like to admit.
“Alright, Commander, you can let me go now.” Jim sighs, trying to extract himself from Spock’s grip.
Spock’s grip remains firm. “I would advise that you allow me to accompany you to your quarters.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake...” he grumbles to himself. He gives one hard yank of his body and Spock finally lets him go, but he realizes too late that he doesn’t have control of his momentum. He ends up sprawled on the ground, fully regretting the excessive number of drinks he’d had that night.
Jim lays there a moment waiting for the dizziness to fade before rolling over onto his back. “Actually, you might be right.”
Spock looks down at him with an almost smirk and holds out his hand. “Of course I am, Captain.”
Jim scoffs but takes Spock’s hand anyway, feeling weightless for a moment until he finds his balance again, still anchored to Spock by the hand. He tries not to feel too embarrassed as Spock guides him patiently to his apartment, distinguished from the many others in its row only by a Starfleet flag hanging limply by the door.
Steadying himself with a hand on Spock’s sturdy shoulder, Jim fishes his key out of his pocket and thanks god that it’s the kind that he can just press against the door handle to unlock because he’s sure that he would embarrass himself further if he had to fit a tiny piece of metal into a keyhole in his condition.
The door swings open and he’s about to finally send his first officer on his way when Spock says, “I know of some preventative methods to relieve the unpleasant symptoms you might experience in the morning, if I may come inside with you.”
Jim shrugs, too tired to argue and knowing Spock would follow him inside no matter how much he protests.
He feels the absence of the arm around his waist when Spock closes the door behind them, the lights turning on automatically at their movement. Jim suddenly feels self-conscious of his plainly furnished dwelling, the only decoration being his diploma from Starfleet Academy hanging alone on the wall. He immediately brushes off his self-consciousness as childish because why should he care what Spock thinks of his home decor? Tossing his key onto the table, Jim passes the kitchen and heads straight for his bedroom down the hall, promptly kicking his shoes off and flopping onto the unmade bed.
As he stares blankly at the ceiling, Jim hears Spock rustling around in the kitchen and then in his bathroom. He thinks to himself that it’s the first time in a while that his apartment hasn’t felt lonely; he didn’t realize how quiet it was until there was someone else there to fill the silence. He closes his eyes for a moment and feels the pull of sleep behind his eyes.
“Here,” Spock says, walking into the room and holding out his hand for Jim to take the two painkillers that lay on his palm.
He sits up and pops the pills into his mouth, then taking the glass of water that Spock holds in his other hand. He feels almost like a kid again, his mom giving him medicine when he’s sick to help him sleep, as he swallows the pills.
“I would advise decreasing your alcohol consumption next time.” Spock suggests, folding his arms behind his back.
Jim doesn’t reply at first, lost in thought as he sets the glass of water on his nightstand. He’s reminded briefly of the talks they would sometimes share in his quarters on the Enterprise, up late discussing matters regarding their mission or sometimes Federation politics. He always noticed a change in the way they interacted when it was just the two of them as opposed to in a group of people. He felt less tense, somehow.
He looks up to meet Spock’s concerned gaze, his voice barely above a whisper, “Thanks.”
The furrow in Spock’s brow softens just a fraction. “I am only fulfilling my duties as first officer by ensuring your continued health and safety, Captain.”
“Thanks for everything.”
They share a moment of silence, eyes locked. Jim looks up at his first officer and he has the nagging thought that there’s no way he’s more qualified for his job than Spock. Somehow, the one who’s drunk off his ass is first in command and the one taking care of him, calm and collected as always, is second. He can’t imagine where he’d be without Spock, probably dead. There’s a look in his eyes that gives Jim the feeling that Spock is looking through him, which makes him wonder what Spock must think of him, the mess that he is. But there’s no judgement in his gaze.
Jim’s eyelids start to flutter and he yawns.
“It would be in your best interest to get some rest now, Captain.” He puts a hand on Jim’s shoulder and gently urges him to lay down. His touch is warm and comforting.
As he lays back in bed, Jim studies Spock’s flawless pale skin and neatly trimmed hair with a frown. His appearance strikes him as unnaturally perfect, and he has to fight the sudden impulse to reach up and muss up Spock’s hair just to make himself feel less ashamed of his own dishevelment.
After settling comfortably under the covers, Jim turns to watch Spock turn out the lights, already dreading the void that will be left in the apartment without him. “I look forward to being back on the bridge with you, Spock.”
Jim sees Spock’s figure pause in the doorway, “As do I, Jim.”
Hearing Spock address him by his name rather than his title makes Jim’s face heat up. The last thing he thinks before he hears the door close and he drifts off to sleep is that his bed feels more empty than usual tonight.