strongtogether

Strong Together

STRONG TOGETHER

New York - 1930

Fair head and woollen cap bent together under a street light.

"Can you make your palm flatter, Spock?" Ten hours of heaving boxes of fruit had left both men's hands flecked with tiny, painful slivers of wood.

Square hands, usually so capable but now clumsy with cold, probed carefully, broken nails finding it difficult to grip.

"Sorry, Spock, I'm going to have to use my teeth." Spock shuddered as the mouth touched the pad of his hand below the fingers and gently drew out a wicked-looking splinter. Quickly bending his head again, Kirk sucked on the hand, drawing out the cleansing blood. He spat vigorously.

"There, that's as much as I can do in this light." He leant back against the slimy wall of the warehouse and held out a hand. "Better see what you can do about mine." The dark head bent over his hand, tilting it to catch the light. "I'll tell you one thing, Spock."

"Captain?" The long Vulcan fingers ran lightly over his palm, stopping occasionally to remove tiny threads and splinters.

"We can't risk your hands like this again - if they're damaged we're done for."

It was a measure of his fatigue that Spock thought of suggesting gloves but, even as the idea formed, he knew it was impractical. Their wages for the day, the magnificent sum of four dollars and twenty cents, currently rested in the back pocket of Kirk's pants, they had not eaten that day and the rent for their room was due the following morning. Kirk winced as a particularly nasty piece of wood was removed from the tender flesh between his index finger and thumb.

Spock dropped the hand and the other was wordlessly extended. Both men were exhausted. They had been at the peak of twenty-third century fitness when they had arrived but crushing anxiety, a poor diet, unhygienic living conditions, too little of the right kind of exercise and too much of the wrong were all beginning to tell. Spock in particular was starting to suffer from a lack of certain dietary elements that were not even present on Earth in this era. He knew Kirk was skimping on his own food to try and ensure his Vulcan friend got whatever fresh fruit and vegetables were available. He did not protest, not only because he knew this was something the human wanted to do but also because he genuinely feared that his body's weakness would affect his mind with consequences, not only for Earth but also for the rest of the Galaxy, that were too horrible to contemplate.

Spock finished his work on Kirk's left hand. "The remainder will have to wait until we return to the room. I fear we will have to use a knife on the deeper fragments."

Kirk grimaced. "That's going to be fun."

Spock did not even bother to raise an eyebrow and start a round of 'Captain, I cannot imagine under what circumstances such an activity could be described as

pleasurable'. They were both too tired. Wordlessly they set off on the long trudge back to the cold, ugly little room on the other side of town.

The streets they passed through were shuttered and dark, drifts of anonymous rubbish lay in every corner and lean cats and worse prowled and scuttled in the shadows. The warehouse area they had been working in would be deserted now until the next day, when the daily tide of produce from the country started again. They had both been offered work the following morning, for even in their debilitated condition they were fitter than the other men who wanted it, and both feared they would have no choice but to accept it.

They walked in silence into one of the residential areas: tall houses that had once been the homes of substantial businessmen and ship-owners now divided and sub-divided into tiny apartments, perhaps a score of families huddled into a house that had once sheltered only one; pathetic shops with nothing in the windows and little more for sale inside; streets robbed by Prohibition of even the dubious animation supplied by alcohol.

After about twenty minutes of this dreary progression, Spock was forced to call a halt to remove a stone from his boot. Designed to be more or less disposable, their Starfleet-issue boots had soon worn through and, although Kirk had managed to find a pair that just about fit amongst the worn out clothing donated to the Mission, Spock had been reduced to padding the soles of his with newspaper. He sat down in a doorway under a street lamp and began the laborious business of unwrapping his foot, finding the stone and then rearranging the newspapers.

Kirk, restless even in his exhaustion, walked backwards and forwards under the light, beating his chest with his arms and blowing on his frozen hands. What he wouldn't give right now for a nice, juicy steak with all the trimmings! He heard his friend stifle a cough and decided to swap the steak for a bottle of vitamin J tablets, a couple of kilos of tlesh and some farasal; he was beginning to be seriously worried about Spock's health.

He looked up at the sky, grateful for only the second clear night he'd seen in all his time in this century of coal fires and industrial pollution, and let his mind wander through the well-remembered arrangement of the stars, unchanging, familiar and coldly clean. Then, after a few seconds, he cursed tiredly to himself as he realized he was trying to pick out the constellation nearest the Enterprise's last position. He grimaced as the eddying wind brought him the stench of nearby drains and quite suddenly he was so homesick for his ship he could scarcely breathe.

Spock looking up, caught sight of the up-turned face, yearning, rapt, the fair head haloed by the street lamp and clenched his fists until the knuckles showed pale beneath the grime.

For a long moment neither of them moved, both in their various ways fixed on the lodestones of their lives. Then Kirk shivered and glanced down as a long, black, expensive- looking automobile pulled up at the kerbside. He wondered idly what had brought the driver down to a seedy area like this in the middle of the night.

Then he found out.

The passenger-side window dropped down and a voice spoke out of the darkness within. "Looking for business, blondie?" The voice reeked of money and privilege; the voice of a man accustomed of buying whatever he wanted.

"Fuck off, mister." It was not the first time this had happened and he had learnt there was no point in being subtle about it. Even exhausted Kirk exuded more vitality then any half dozen of the usual inhabitants of this district and, in an era when a poor man was old and worn out at thirty-five, he was also quite startlingly good- looking and the combination of the looks of youth and the strength of a mature man had already attracted a certain amount of unwelcome attention.

"I'd rather fuck you, blondie." Insinuating, confident.

Kirk treated the driver to the sort of look usually reserved for pinning erring crewmen to the bulkhead and the automobile drove off hurriedly.

Kirk chuckled softly. "Come on Spock, let's stop hanging around under street lights. It's giving people the wrong idea about us."

Spock tucked the last flapping edge of paper under his foot and eased it back into the boot. He stood up and took a few experimental steps; it would have to do.

They resumed their journey and it was close on midnight when they got back to their room. The removal of the remaining splinters with a heated knife blade was every bit as unpleasant as Kirk had feared, the pain peculiarly sickening as small pains often are, the experience not improved by the salt and water which was their only antiseptic. Kirk was so tired and cold he could not control his left hand well enough to treat his right and Spock was obliged to do it for him, bending over the bowl of hot water, devoting to the task the same concentration he brought to everything he did. Only when he was satisfied that the wounds were clean, did he rise to dispose of the bloody water.

Kirk watched his back disappearing out of the door and swallowed a huge lump in his throat; he knew (and although he did not realize it, he was the only person who did know) just how much Spock hated the sight and smell of blood. But you couldn't tell it from his face, he thought tiredly. My Vulcan friend...

Spock re-entered the room to find Kirk lying on his back on the bed, an arm over his eyes and, thinking him asleep, tiptoed into the room, removed the sheet from his "hobby" and settled down to another night's back-breaking, eye- straining toil.

"Thanks."

Spock said nothing. He still thought thanks were illogical.

There was a long pause then Kirk spoke again. "This isn't working, Spock."

"Captain?" It seemed safest to stay non-committal until he had more idea where the human's thoughts were leading.

"We can't go on like this, we're falling further and further behind schedule. That last short didn't just take out thirty hours work; it took out most of our combined earnings for the last two weeks. Doesn't matter how hard we work, we can't earn enough, fast enough to buy the stuff you need to catch up before McCoy gets here - if he isn't here already."

Spock said nothing, he had come to the same conclusion two days ago but, seeing no alternative, he had plodded on, repairing, refining, replacing.

"What do you need to accelerate progress? I don't mean bars of platinum or another tricorder, I mean what twentieth century technology do we need to get this thing to work and get it to work quickly?"

"Captain, I see no point to this speculation. Without the necessary funds we cannot purchase what we require."

The arm came off the eyes and Kirk sat up, spreading his hands in a familiar gesture. "Humour me, Spock. Given unlimited funds, what would you buy?"

"A soldering iron, thirty class A43 radio valves, ten meters of high quality cable, a voltammeter, twenty-five meters of copper wire, eight resistors and a small gasoline-driven electrical generator," said Spock promptly.

"Cost?"

"Approximately $85 - Jim this is futile. I have devoted considerable effort over the last two days to attempting to identify some activity which would earn us more money, in a short space of time without (a) revealing that we come from the future or (b) introducing anachronistic technology into this time stream." Hastily, he caught himself as he almost shrugged. "I could think of nothing."

Kirk got off the bed and began to pace, only to sink back onto the bed as his stiffening muscles made themselves felt. "Time! That's the whole damn trouble. There's lots of things we could do if only we had more time." The ancient springs protested as, even sitting down, his restlessness made itself apparent. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and Spock recognized the signs of one of Kirk's headaches and a bad one too, if the paleness of his face was anything to go by. He beat down the familiar urge to offer the healing meld - effective but far too dangerously, far too seductively, intimate.

"I did think of taking up prize-fighting but it would take weeks we don't have to get into a position where I was fighting for that sort of money."

Spock settled down in his chair to listen. Although he would never have admitted it, times such as these were one of the solaces of his existence: watching while Kirk worried at a problem like a dog with an old shoe; making his own suggestions and watching while Kirk picked them up and wove them into his decisions. The whole dogged, indomitable, hopefulness of the man seized Spock's heart in an almost painful and entirely physical grip.

"Frankly Spock, I've even thought of robbing a bank." He grinned, that juvenile part of his personality which in common with many humans, he had never lost, enjoying the mere sound of the words. Spock opened his mouth but Kirk waved him silent. "I know, I know. We can't risk it - if the wrong person goes bust or the wrong bank goes under we could undermine this whole fragile economy, not to mention the risk of the wrong person going hungry, the wrong baby not being born." He shivered and blew on his hands again, it was bitterly cold and even indoors both men were still wearing their coats.

Spock got up and began to make coffee, still unable to regret the 37 minutes and 83 cents it had taken to fabricate the small water-heating element. He glanced over at Kirk, he knew this part of the proceedings well, the small pause before Jim could bring himself to say something difficult but necessary. He had no idea what that thing would be but a cold sensation began to coil in his belly.

The coffee grounds had been boiled and boiled again and the resulting liquid was bitter and gritty between his teeth but at least it was hot and Kirk curled his hands gratefully round the warmth. He looked down and took a deep breath. "I've been racking my brains too, Spock and I've come to a conclusion. There is one thing I could do to earn a lot of money in a short space of time." He looked up to see Spock's eyes fixed on him in innocent curiosity and smiled crookedly. "And I could have started tonight with that guy in the automobile."

He watched as something - comprehension? revulsion? - flickered across the impassive face above him and was gone.

"Jim, you can't ... that's..." Uncharacteristically, Spock could not articulate the word and, characteristically, it was Kirk who could, intervening for him so that he did not have to say it aloud.

"Prostitution?" Kirk put his mug on the floor and looked at his hands. "Oh yes I can Spock. Apart from anything else, it wouldn't be the first time." There was a long silence. He flung back his head and a hand raked through his hair to massage the back of his neck. Then very softly, "You know I was alone on Tarsus. Did you never wonder what I had to do to stay alive?"

"You were a child!" Horrified, desperately trying not to believe.

"Yeah, well for some people that's an attraction."

For the first time since his childhood Spock felt physically sick. He had read of such things but had somehow always thought of them as part of Earth's violent past; a historical aberration as horrible and as obsolete as witch burning or female infanticide. He remembered a holopic Kirk had once showed him of himself and his brother Sam as children, two curly-headed boys in Little League uniforms and his throat closed.

Kirk watched him; he'd never told anyone the whole truth about Tarsus even though it had fed his nightmares for years. Poor old Spock, he thought gently, what a thing to burden him with. He met Spock's eyes and held them and his face quirked in the expression Spock thought of as his 'facial shrug', a little sideways hitch of the chin while the eyebrows danced upwards and the lips twisted.

"Don't look so worried, Spock," he said and from somewhere Spock found the strength to look magnificently outraged at the suggestion that he would do anything quite so emotional.

Kirk grinned, warmed by the old game between them. "Look," he said. "The only reason I'm telling you all this is because I was okay then and I'll be okay now. After all," he added lightly, "if I can peddle my ass for a rationpak, I can sure as hell peddle it for the sake of humanity."

For only the third or fourth time in all the years they had know each other, Spock touched him, a gentle hand on his ice-cold fingers. Kirk allowed the contact and then, after a few seconds, pulled away. "Leave me the bravado, eh Spock? I think I'm going to need it."

"There has to be another way."

"If there is, neither of us knows what it is," said Kirk reasonably. "And I've been thinking, we ought to replace the clothes we stole - the last thing we need is Zephram Cochrane's great-grandfather or somebody dying of cold because one of us is wearing his winter coat."

Spock could not disagree, the same thought had occurred to him although not quite in the same terms. He had done his best to calculate the probabilities on the information available and the resulting odds had been low but by no means negligible.

"So unless one of us can come up with a better idea by morning, that's what I'll do - and Spock, if we ever get back we don't tell McCoy. He's going to feel guilty enough without this."

Fierce embarrassment warred with anxiety and lost. "This may be medically inadvisable. There are a number of sexually transmitted diseases in this era which their medicine cannot cure."

"If we get back I promise I'll get M'Benga to check me over, he'll keep his mouth shut if I give him a good reason." Neither of them mentioned that if they did not get back Kirk's health would be irrelevant anyway.

Spock wanted to argue, to prevent this happening at all, at any cost. The relentless logic of their situation clamoured for his attention and, for the first time in his life, he cursed the heritage that compelled his acquiescence. This was not right, this was not fair. His friend's restless sexuality had frequently baffled him but he knew beyond any shadow of doubt how vitally important it was for Kirk that any liaison - and so far as Spock was aware all those liaisons had been with women - should be a relationship of mutual consent and mutual pleasure. Unlike many in Starfleet, Kirk never visited the brothels that clustered round every spaceport in the Federation and was consistent and outspoken in his disapproval of those who participated in the inevitable exploitation.

A hitherto forgotten discussion re-presented itself. Kirk and Lieutenant Commander Mitchell in Rec. Room 3, Mitchell arguing for a free market in sexual, as in other, services and Kirk's quiet, "No one becomes a whore by choice, Gary." Only now did Spock recognize the depth of conviction in the softly spoken words. This cold coupling for money would be doubly distasteful to the human.

For a moment there was silence in the room, then, in one of the wordless conversations McCoy had been noticing for months, but which his two friends did not even realize were happening, Spock offered the open expression of his concern for his friend and Kirk, reading the drawn face, thanked him for that concern and projected his own brand of confident reassurance. Anyone looking into the room from outside would have seen nothing beyond tightened lips, a slight shrug, a grin and a raised eyebrow but, for the two men there, it was enough.

Silently they both prepared for bed but, while Kirk managed to snatch a few hours sleep before dawn, Spock lay awake all night, listening to the rise and fall of human breathing and mourning what he could not prevent.

Next morning Kirk looked at himself in the mirror and passed a hand over his bristling chin. "I'll go get a shave and a haircut after work and I'll see you when I get back."

Spock had been thinking. "Jim, I do not believe a chance encounter on a street corner will earn the money we require."

"No. But there are places... I asked around."

Yes, he would have done, thought Spock. Although Kirk welcomed opinion and argument, once he had decided on a course of action it would be pursued quickly and efficiently. It was virtually impossible to sway him once he had made up his mind, no matter how much Kirk himself longed to be swayed.

By an unspoken but mutual decision they did not return to the warehouse and instead spent the day working at the Mission. Edith was there, calm, competent and decent and for part of the day Kirk worked beside her in the tiny office, repairing a broken window.

Occasionally through the open door Spock heard the sounds of conversation and low laughter and wondered how much more grief his friend was storing up for himself. Whatever Edith Keeler's future was destined to be, Kirk could only share it if their purpose failed and Earth was launched into a cataclysm from which it would never entirely recover, a cataclysm so overwhelming that personal happiness for any of them would be impossible.

A picture of Kirk in twentieth century, military uniform presented itself to Spock with horrifying clarity and he knew with absolute certainty that, if war came while Jim was still in this time, it would be impossible to prevent him from fighting, from offering all that he was in a desperate attempt to dam this time stream and force it back into its intended course.

At six o'clock Kirk kissed Edith's cheek and left for an invented meeting with an old army buddy. Spock followed him out of the Mission but on the doorstep Kirk barred his way. "Time for you to go home, old friend," he said firmly. He grinned and tapped Spock on the shoulder. "And don't forget, if I get arrested the traditional response is a cake with a file in it."

He turned and strode off down the street and for all the breadth of the shoulders, for all the confident walk, the defiant carriage of the head, Spock suddenly saw how vulnerable his captain was, all alone, heading for a place that would be at once totally alien and yet terribly familiar and he might have wept had he known how.

He trudged back to the room and tried to settle down to the repair of the tricorder interface. The light from the single, bare bulb was harsh and under its glare he saw the hand holding one of the burnt-out valves was trembling.

For several minutes he watched with an almost academic detachment reflecting, not for the first time, how much easier it was to control in the presence of others. He knew he had not disguised the fact of his distress from his friend, if truth were told he had not even tried, offering it instead as his own participation in this difficult time. The depth of that distress, however, had been and must continue to be hidden.

He drew himself bolt upright in his chair, closed his eyes, breathed deeply and reached for the familiar mechanisms of analysis and control. Carefully he examined the situation and his own reactions and forced himself to recognize them for what they were.

Much of his response was the grossest of sentimentality. He had allowed himself to construct what the humans called a 'worst-case scenario' for Kirk's reactions, based partly on his own anger at what Jim had been forced to face in the past and partly on his own ignorance of what he would be called upon to face tonight. It was time for him to recognize that his captain was an intelligent, capable and sexually experienced adult who could be trusted to do what was necessary and then to recognize that necessity. Given the events of the past, Jim could hardly avoid (he forced himself to adopt a neutral expression) an adverse reaction, possibly to the act itself and certainly to its crude commerciality, but a permanent scarring of mind or body? Spock thought not.

He forced himself down into the next level of analysis, much harder here and therefore much more necessary. Reluctantly he dragged the rest of his response into plain view - much of it was simple jealousy.

Within a matter of weeks of Kirk's arrival on board the Enterprise, Spock had recognized his response to his captain as love. Within a matter of days he had realized that his love embraced desire; but never once, in all their time together, had he thought it possible that his love, much less his desire, might be returned. Never once had he permitted himself to imagine, to hope and now a stranger would rest his head on that broad chest, feel those hands, those cool, mobile, human lips.... There was a loud report and he jerked into awareness to find that the vacuum valve he was holding had imploded in his clenched fist. He looked down at the glass imbedded in his hand and at the green blood oozing from the cuts - reminders and reproaches. Slowly and with infinite care he cleaned the hand and the spatters of blood from the floor covering and bent to his task, reconfiguring the installation to incorporate the new valves, the cabling and the generator, never doubting the necessity.

Kirk returned a little after four in the morning to find Spock still working. He leant against the doorpost and smiled affectionately. "It's been a long time since anybody waited up for me, Spock."

Spock turned, his meditation having at least given him control over the outward signs of his agitation. "There is still much work to be done on the interface," he said

calmly.

Kirk grinned, entirely unfooled. "Oh well, so long as you weren't worried." He took his hands out of his pockets as he came into the room to reveal a new, white bandage round the knuckles of his right hand. His eyes followed Spock's down to it and he flexed his fingers to prove that the damage was not serious. "It's nothing - one of the proprietors of the establishment didn't approve of me leaving with my ill-gotten gains. He had a gun - I had to take it off him. I got it dressed at an all-night place a couple of blocks away." He took off his coat and yawned. "I'll never complain about McCoy's potions again. You have no idea how much iodine hurts!"

To Spock's anxious eyes he looked both tired and curiously clean as he sat on the bed and began to unlace his boots. "You can have all the hot water in the morning, Spock. They actually had a real water shower at ... where I was."

A ritual cleansing perhaps, thought Spock, and how much of this ease is assumed for my benefit?

Kirk lifted his head and caught the Vulcan watching him warily. "I really am okay," he said quietly. "I won't claim I enjoyed it but," he shrugged, "it's one thing at thirteen and quite another at thirty-four. If you give me a list I'll go shopping in the morning." He undressed; stripping down to the underwear he slept in as a concession to some presumed notion of Vulcan modesty, then lay on his back, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

Spock undressed in his turn and, turning out the light, got into his own bed and prepared for sleep. In the darkness Kirk's voice was quiet and reflective. "It was a strange experience. I'm not quite sure what I expected but it was all kinda pathetic. They were so lonely and so afraid."

"Afraid?"

"Of being found out, of the police, of blackmail, of the people who run these places, of me, of each other. This is an ugly time Spock." A deep in-drawn breath. "I wish we

were home."

Spock waited until the even breathing signalled sleep and, getting out of bed, he dressed himself and bent over the interface.

After that night their time on Earth seemed to hurtle to a conclusion. The next day the equipment he required and the replacement clothing were purchased. Spock realized that Kirk had some of the money left and for several days lived in dread of it being spent on food or on replacement boots for himself. It never was and a chance remark from Edith about an anonymous donation told him where it had gone. His own reactions he disciplined fiercely and stood beside his captain as the full horror of what would be required of him became apparent and afterwards.

Even after they returned to the Enterprise he stood - offering his own presence as an unchanging anchor for reality, a fixed point in a universe grown suddenly cold.

And in this there were consolations, the knowledge that he was valued, that his friendship was important and if it was not all that he desired, it was much and it was sweet and for almost two years it had to suffice.

Then they encountered the Melkotians.

The experience itself was both terrifying and in retrospect faintly ludicrous and it was not long before the humans were making appalling cowboy jokes and laughing at their memories of "the saloon" and "the shoot-out". Afterwards, on the Bridge, they all spoke of their experiences and of the innate violence of humankind.

Neither Spock nor Kirk mentioned the meld that had revealed so much and only Kirk realized how desperately Spock was clinging to the appearance of normality. He tried to catch the Vulcan's eye, tried to find an opportunity to invite him to his quarters under the pretext of a game of chess. They had to talk about this before the pressure to keep silent sealed both their mouths.

Spock, however, buried himself in his console, staring fixedly into the blue light although he saw nothing of what passed before his eyes. At the end of the shift he waited until Kirk was involved in the hand over of command and then bolted for the sanctuary of his quarters, striding, almost running, through the corridors in his haste to hide before all control was lost. He stumbled into the room and into his sleeping quarters and dropped onto the bed, burying his head in his trembling hands, his heart pounding.

The little scene on the bridge had cost him what little mental strength he had managed to retain and now there was nothing to hold back the rush and noise of his self-disgust as it swept through him, carrying logic and analysis before it like a river in flood. All those months and years of

careful control swept aside by the first, true touch of Kirk's mind within his own!

"Fool! Fool!" His mind shouted at him. He should have melded with the captain first! Not after the doctor and the engineer, not when his mind was exhausted and his controls faltering.

The first two melds had been so much more difficult than he had anticipated. Both McCoy and Scott were strong-willed, practical men, their minds firmly grounded in the realities of their professions and both had been repelled by the necessary entry into their minds. Despite their whole- hearted, conscious consent, they had fought the meld, they had fought the adjustment to their perception and, almost more affecting than anything else, they had both fought to hide their revulsion from him; out of consideration for the sensibilities he had always claimed not to possess. For him. For friendship's sake.

With all these barriers to overcome, subjective time within the meld had stretched and stretched and it had seemed to Spock that he was forced to struggle for hours to do what must be done, only to find each time he broke a meld, that only seconds had passed.

After that great labour, the communication between himself and Kirk had been blissfully easy and perilously exciting. He had never before melded with Kirk's conscious mind, never before seen from within that which was so familiar from outside - his captain, hyper-alert and fully engaged in the battle for all their lives - and the experience had been a revelation. Kirk's mind had rushed towards his like a high wind - not hot and heavy as the familiar winds of Vulcan but cold and clean, smelling of tree-covered mountains and the seas of Earth, alien and invigorating.

As they set to work, it had appeared to human and Vulcan alike that the necessary mental adjustment was a task they undertook jointly, Spock's care and skill calling forth an instinctive co-operation from Kirk. They were a team in here as anywhere else and, as they worked, a whole new world of untasted joys had shown itself to the Vulcan. He had not known how much there was to want!

Despite their present danger, Kirk's fascinated delight in this new experience had cascaded over Spock in sparkling shards of ice-cold light, exhilarating, joyful and generous, undermining his defences as water undermines rock, searching out the weakest points. Perceived time within the meld had stretched out before Spock, eons in which he had to struggle to complete his work while fighting the siren-lure of Kirk's mind, the urge to plunge deeper into that ardent coolness, the craving to see and know it all.

He had tried so hard not to give way, so very, very hard but, exhausted by his labours and by all the years of longing for what he could not have, he had failed.

He had finished his task, he had been preparing to leave, his secret still intact, when, in the nano-second between intent and action, he had felt Kirk's momentary regret at this necessary parting and it had been more than he could bear.

Overwhelmed, he had watched helplessly while his love escaped his fragile control to run free in the one place in the Universe where it most longed to be. For a handful of heartbeats, the joy of that release had rung out. "This is the truth, my friend, this is the truth I can longer hide". Until, in the telling, the thing that he had done had become real to him and he had fled, not waiting for Kirk's reaction, not daring to look back, driven from that place by his own shame and anger.

And now Kirk knew! Knew it all! Spock's head thrashed from side to side and he seized it in both hands - Control! He must regain control! For he knew beyond all certainties that within minutes Kirk would be here and he must not allow himself be found in this state.

Years of practice in the disciplines of the mind came to his aid and he thrust aside his confusion and fear and started to rebuild at least the appearance of calm. Whatever Kirk wanted to say, from reassurance of continued friendship to an order that he transfer off the Enterprise, Spock would meet with his decent Vulcan façade intact.

He had almost succeeded when a stray memory imposed itself, of Jim and the gentle, impersonal tolerance he practiced towards the occasional crewmember who became infatuated with him. At the thought of the same kindly forbearance being extended to himself, Spock's soul seemed to shrivel within him. No, better by far to go and go quickly, before what little they had shared was tainted with pity. He breathed in deeply and used that certainty as a solid rock on which to build his self-control.

Ten minutes later when the door chime sounded, he had complete command of himself and, when Kirk entered, he found his friend standing in front of his desk, hands clasped firmly behind his back, his face a courteous and attentive blank.

The human had changed into casual clothes, a blue and yellow plaid, woollen shirt worn loosely over faded, denim jeans. The effect was informal and wholly desirable.

It was also quite obviously intentional.

Spock clenched his fists unseen behind his back and fought to preserve his countenance. If he could keep his self-command for only a few more minutes afterwards there would be time for pain and regret and for the rebuilding of his life as a Vulcan. "You wish to see me, Captain?"

Kirk glanced down at himself. "I haven't come as captain, Spock."

Spock fixed his eyes on a point somewhere behind Kirk's left shoulder. "Nevertheless, I would like to take this opportunity to inform you that I intend to apply for another posting. We shall be at Starbase 11 in two weeks, I am entitled to seek a transfer then." He waited for the barrage of protest and argument he would normally have expected following such a request and, despite his willed calm, his stomach plunged as no protest came.

"Of course, if that's what you really want," Kirk's voice was low and even. "But before you take such a drastic step, may I offer some additional facts for your consideration?" There was silence. The room was warm, the lighting subdued and both men found themselves talking softly, as though there were something present that might be frightened by loud noises.

Spock bowed his head, obscurely comforted by the formality of the conversation, if it stayed on this level he should be able to play his part in it without losing what remained of his dignity.

Kirk took the gesture as an invitation to continue. He could see that the muscles in Spock's neck and shoulders were taut and knotted and he stuffed his own shaking hands deep into the pockets of his pants. He had thought out his strategy while he was changing. A mere appeal to emotion wouldn't work, would probably scare Spock even deeper into the shell he was constructing for himself. No, the only way was to treat this as another problem for that magnificent mind. Give him all the facts available and then leave him to come to his own conclusions and hope that those conclusions matched his captain's.

Spock was still standing at parade rest and Kirk came to stand before him, not so close it was an intrusion into his friend's personal space but close enough that Spock had to look at him.

"We both know what I saw in the meld, Spock." His voice was gentle but left no room for interruption. "But what you don't know is that I not only saw - I recognized, I recognized it all. The love, the desire, the desperate urge to keep it hidden, the conviction that the other would not understand, might even be repulsed. All of it."

Spock was pale but his voice was composed. "I realize, sir, I am not the only member of this crew who has ever developed... inappropriate feelings towards you. However..."

"No, that's not..." Kirk leaned forward urgently and Spock recoiled, the edge of his desk caught him behind the thighs and he sat down heavily. The light over the desk lit his face plainly for the first time since Kirk had entered his quarters and a wave of compassion swept over the human.

Oh Spock! All those years of disciplining his emotions, of denying their very existence, only for them to break free during a moment's inattention. 40 years of self-control exploded, not gently over the long courtship the human had occasionally let himself imagine, not even in the sanctuary of a childhood bond, but in a single, brutal outburst that had torn the Vulcan apart, leaving his jealously guarded, private longings exposed, a raw wound infinitely more painful than any mere physical injury.

"Spock, you look awful," he said bluntly but still very gently. "Look, just sit there a few minutes longer until I've had my say then, if you still want me to leave, I'll go."

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried desperately to sort his thoughts into some kind of order. "I'm going to tell you something, Spock. Something I thought I'd never tell anyone, least of all you." He sat down on the desk next to Spock, their shoulders not quite touching. "Do you remember that night in 1930 when I..."

"Yes." In his painfully sensitive state Spock could not bear the thought of listening to a description of the act.

"Well, I went to the place and my... services were auctioned off to the highest bidder, which was not the most pleasant experience I've ever had. And then I realized I'd made a big mistake. My only experience of that sort of thing had been as a child, when I wasn't expected to do very much but - well not exactly suffer in silence but you get the picture. Instead I ended up with someone who expected me to take an active part in the proceedings."

Can the euphemisms, he thought, he's not thinking too clearly, you've got to make yourself absolutely plain about this.

"To put it bluntly he'd paid a staggering sum of money and he expected me to fuck him for it and I didn't think I could. Hell, I didn't think I could get it up, never mind do anything with it. The whole situation was about as erotic as cleaning out the recyc vats."

He sneaked a look at the pale face at his side and his heart turned over. Spock was wearing exactly the same expression he wore on the Bridge when new data was being fed to his console, the same stillness, the same concentrated attention. He took a deep breath. "The traditional human tactic when faced with an uncongenial partner is to fantasize that one is sleeping with someone one wants to sleep with. So I tried to think of a male partner I could bear to have sex with," he leaned over and brushed Spock's shoulder with his own. "And the only person I could think of was you."

The dark head turned at that and looked him straight in the eye. "All the time I was in bed with him I pretended I was making love to you." He got up and started to pace and then realized there was too little room to do it properly and leant against the room divider, his fingers reflexively twining through the grill.

"It was a shock - a whole new way of seeing the universe, a familiar route that suddenly becomes a cross-roads with other choices about the path to take." He paused and then went on doggedly, "I don't want you to misunderstand me, I'm not claiming a... a... commitment as long-standing as the one I saw in the meld. You were and are my best friend and, after Sam died, the person closer to me than any other but I didn't love you then and I won't lie to you and say that I did."

Spock drew in a deep breath, even in his confusion some part of him was warmed by the painful honesty of the man he loved. No, Jim would not denigrate a past love, not even to comfort a new one. He shuddered as the implications of that thought sank in.

"But if I didn't love you then - I knew that I could. A window had opened and I saw our relationship had somewhere else it could go. Maybe if it hadn't been for Tarsus I'd have seen it sooner but I saw it eventually." He paused and untwisted his fingers from the screen, flexing them to restore the circulation cut off by the strength of his grip, waiting vainly for some reaction as Spock sat, his whole body taut, careful attention personified. Oh gods this was so important and he couldn't tell from Spock's face what was going on inside his head. Over the years he'd grown adept at reading that narrow face but now, and for the first time in many, many months, he had not the faintest idea what his friend was thinking.

Kirk could feel the adrenaline rush that normally came with action heightening his pulse and heart rate, he could even feel the adrenals themselves as a burning in the small of his back. He was sweating, not only from the warmth of the room but also from fear because he was, quite simply, terrified - of overloading his friend, of sweeping him away in the tide of his human desires, of dragging Spock where he didn't really want or need to go. Loving someone meant giving them choices - even if that choice took Spock away.

The very thought dried his mouth and wetted his palms and he was desperately thankful for the weeks of hopeless longing which had given him time to know himself and what he wanted.

He moved back in front of Spock and held his hands out so that Spock could see them trembling. "You have been a dear friend to me since our first few weeks together but, quite suddenly, one day 'bout four and a half months ago I realized I loved you as so much more than that."

There was still no reaction and Kirk smiled ruefully. "Ever since then I've done my level best to ensure that you didn't find out. If you hadn't been so frantic to get out of my mind you'd have recognized your feelings mirror-imaged in mine." A long silence. "If this isn't what you want we can forget this conversation ever happened." You wish, Kirk " We can be as we were before the meld or, if you still want to go, then I won't stand in your way only..." his voice, so confident until now, dropped. "You must know I want you to stay." He looked down, unwilling to add to the argument the need he knew must show in his eyes.

Spock looked at the bent head, bleached golden by the sun of their last shore leave, and tried to think. Maintaining his shields was taking so much mental energy, it was a real effort to assimilate and order all he had just heard. From the depths of despair to this - this calm offer of everything he had ever longed for.

For a moment the urge not to believe almost overwhelmed him, it was all so unexpected, so foreign to all he had ever known that it was almost easier to reject it all as a cruel hoax.

Then intellect came to his aid. No, Jim would not lie about such a thing. And at that realization all his fear and doubt seemed to drain away, an almost physical emptying that left him feeling suddenly weak and strong at the same time.

For the first time ever he allowed himself to say his love's name as he had always wished to say it.

"Jim."

Kirk's head jerked up and their eyes met. Then Spock slid off his desk and they walked into each other's arms.

"You're not going. Tell me you're not going." Kirk's voice was the merest whisper and Spock's arms tightened around him.

"Never! I shall never leave thee! How could I? Thou art my life!" The words seemed drawn up from subterranean depths. They embraced, each pressing hard against the full length of the other's body, arms tight around backs and shoulders.

Spock pressed his face into the warmth of Kirk's neck, feeling the tremors that shook them both and drinking in the sudden flood of pheromones; despite his confidence in his human's words, this involuntary confirmation that their desire was mutual was both sweet and savagely exciting.

For Kirk there was a brief moment of disorientation as he grew accustomed to the embrace of someone taller than himself, then all thought fled as the heat and slender strength of the man in his arms filled his senses. The love he had nurtured in secret swelled and filled his mind and overflowed and, under the pressure of that love, the dam that was Spock's shields first weakened and then breached and the love poured in, filling the need and the loneliness like water into parched earth.

Spock cried out, a wordless, husky sound that startled them both.

Kirk laughed softly. "If we don't stop shaking the Bridge is going to pick us up on the sensors. Come on, love, let's sit down before we fall down." Holding each other up like drunken crewmen on shore leave, they staggered into Spock's sleeping quarters and sat on the bed, awkwardly intertwined.

"Too soon for you?" He was worried he was rushing Spock but the craving for more physical contact was almost painful.

"I do not know." Having given his trust, Spock gave it all. "Jim, I don't know anything. This is all new to me." His head was swimming and for the first time in his life he did not know what he was going to do next and he did not care.

The arms around Spock tightened as Kirk worked out what that little bombshell meant. "Ah but that's the best thing about love," he said gently. "Most of it has to be learned new every time." Spock turned to look at him and he smiled. "You may be innocent with love but I'm innocent with you, so we both have a lot to learn."

He paused to let Spock consider that, then said, "So, how about you let me hold you and we decide from there?" He concentrated hard on reining in his own desires. He had felt the Vulcan lying beneath him in so many carefully hidden fantasies, so many half-remembered dreams that it was an effort to abandon them for now, Spock mustn't feel trapped or pressured. If this was his first, then it was going to be as sweet and as gentle as much love and considerable experience could make it.

"That seems acceptable."

Kirk bent down and tugged off his boots. "Hint number one - always take your shoes off before you start anything, it's so distracting if you have to do it in the middle of something interesting." He tossed the boots somewhere and rolled onto his back as Spock removed his and set them tidily against the wall.

Spock turned to find Kirk holding his arms out and with a sigh of pure content lay beside his friend and rested his head over the strong heart so he could feel its steady beat against his cheek. Arms came round him and he felt lips against his hair and then the human's cheek against the top of his head.

"I love you." Kirk's whispered words were honey-sweet, like the scented oil of Spock's home world that was both a salve for wounds and a welcome home for returning travellers.

Spock burrowed into the warmth of the embrace, a huge lump in his throat. He wanted to run and laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted this moment never to end and yet he wanted more. He nestled closer, tucking his shoulder under Kirk's arm and rubbing his cheek against the soft woollen shirt, feeling the ridged ribs beneath the cloth and the play of muscles as Kirk's hands roamed lazily about his back and shoulders in a motion at once soothing and possessive.

Kirk himself was feeling dazed and sleepy, the adrenaline had drained away leaving him unable and indeed unwilling to think or do anything very much. The warmth and quiet peace of the moment filled his mind and he could have lain there for hours, luxuriating in the knowledge of the prize he had been given. "All that I need," he thought, "I hold in my arms."

He was so happy and so just plain comfortable that it was some time before he realized the body in his arms was still trembling. "Are you okay?" he whispered into the nearest ear. "Do you want to stop? If you need to be alone I can leave. There will be other times."

The gentle care warmed Spock through to the bone and the dark eyes that met Kirk's were calmly sure. "We cannot know that for certain. We might have died today and our life aboard this ship is such that we may die tomorrow. I love you," he shivered with pleasure (To be able to say the words out-loud!). "And I do not wish to die without knowing more of you and of this." He dropped his head back onto Kirk's chest and rubbed his cheek against the cloth, a sensuous, almost feline movement.

Remembering Spock's painful (and painfully infectious) embarrassment at the time of his pon farr, Kirk had been expecting Spock to react to all this between them with shyness and hesitation and he realized with a little kick of excitement that he had, once again, underestimated his friend. Spock knew what he wanted and, now that he knew Kirk wanted the same thing, all his uncertainties had evaporated, leaving this quiet confidence that lacked only experience of the act of love to make it complete. Spock knew where they both wanted to go, he just did not know how to get there.

Kirk's whole body seemed to tighten; he at least knew the paths of love and he was eager to start their journey. He lifted his head to speak and the movement, combined with Spock's stroking, undid one of the buttons of his shirt. The words died in his throat as he felt the pressure of warm lips against his bare skin.

Spock was entranced. The human's skin was smooth but there was a subtle grain to it, like the weave of silk and he moved his lips over it trying to capture and know the precise dimensions of its matrix. The skin was cool and moist and he put out his tongue to taste the faintly salty sheen and Kirk's breath was an in-drawn hiss of pleasure as he shuddered, pressing upwards.

The tranquil lethargy was gone, the urge to roll Spock over, cover his body and drown himself in that familiar, long-desired and now attainable mouth was almost overwhelming. Kirk dug his fingernails into his palms and fought to let Spock set his own pace. If this restrained, exploratory torment was what he needed then that was what he would have. He squeezed his eyes shut as Spock undid the remaining buttons and ran a caressing hand over the chest beneath. The tiny calluses on his fingertips, formed by many hours playing the lyre, scraped over Kirk's skin, an unspeakably delightful sensation, parallel paths of contact, each distinctly felt.

"Please!" Kirk could not restrain the plea. He tugged Spock higher on the bed so that they lay, side-by-side, head to head. "I have to..."

Spock shuddered as cool hands caressed the back of his neck, drawing him gently until their lips met. He felt a deep pang of.... something deep inside at that first contact, an unfamiliar lightning dart from mouth to groin. Kirk's deep "aaah" of satisfaction vibrated against his lips, his throat, his chest and his whole body twisted helplessly.

Nothing in his life to date had prepared Spock for the pleasure of the mouth that pressed with such subtle, knowing force upon his. He could taste salt and iron and coffee and something which was none of those things but which he immediately identified as the essence of the man he loved; a clean, sweet flavour as innocent as apples, as intoxicating as new wine. Desperate to know more, he seized the dark-blond head between his hands and opened his mouth to his lover’s tongue.

Kirk's arms tightened round the narrow shoulders, the kiss was unlike any he had ever known, the taste completely alien and yet strangely familiar, and ah the heat of his mouth, the gentle movement of the lips which grew in confidence with every passing second, the twining of the tongue against his, the hectic thrum of the Vulcan heart against his side, where they lay pressed together.

Spock broke contact first and lay for long seconds, gasping for breath, his head on the strong shoulder, one hand on Kirk's chest so he could feel the human's heart, proud and strangely humbled by the knowledge that he had caused this racing beat. Careful fingers tugged his shirt and undershirt free of his pants and a cool hand rested on the skin of his back for a few seconds before beginning a slow and deliberate caressing, smoothing over his skin in ever widening circles, the exploration only hampered by the bunching of the material.

Suddenly impatient, Spock sat up and tugged both shirts over his head and lay down again, completely unprepared for the electrifying slide of smooth human skin against his nakedness. He fought for breath as a wave of heat engulfed his body and, frantic to increase the contact between them, he threw one leg over Kirk's and felt for the first time an arrow-sharp spasm of pleasure as his erection pressed against a muscled thigh. He cried out his lover's name and heard in his own voice the sound of the arousal that gripped him, sweeping away his control and replacing it with a hot, dark tide of pulse and blood and need that thundered in his ears and burned in his veins.

He thought he was falling and grabbed for Kirk's shoulders and then realized he was only being turned onto his back. Firm, hungry lips covered his for a moment and then moved over his face, his eyes, his ears; he felt the nip of teeth and the soothing lap of the tongue and shivered, turning his head to make access easier. There was a soft chuckle. "Ah, you like that do you? I thought you might." A small explosion of warmth swept down his body as a single innocuous kiss was blown into each ear.

Another nip at his ear and when he turned his head again he felt Kirk kiss his way down the curve of his jaw and the hard arched muscle of his throat. He writhed helplessly as he felt Jim nuzzle under his chin, licking and biting and just when he thought he could bear it no longer, the pleasure almost painful in its intensity, it stopped.

Kirk rested his head on Spock's chest and his fingertips strayed lightly through soft dark hair. "Ah Spock, you feel so good."

The whispered words brought Spock's arms up and round Kirk's shoulders, a long-fingered hand combing through the fine hair on the back of his head.

Kirk arched his neck, first pressing his head back into the searching fingers, shivering with delight, before bending it to kiss his way through the dusting of curls, enjoying the unaccustomed but definitely pleasurable feeling of the soft hair against his cheek. He found the small, flat, emerald nipples and divided his time between them, kissing and licking until they swelled and hardened against his tongue.

Spock felt again the lightning-quick stab of pleasure at his groin but instead of fading, this time it began to build, cords of pleasure tightening in his belly and thighs and a thick radiant heat spreading outwards. His heart sang amidst the unfamiliar throes of his own pleasure as he saw that he was not alone in this, he could feel Kirk's rising excitement in the shortening of his breathing, the trembling of his hands, the jut of his erection against Spock's hip.

"This is of me," thought Spock. "He takes this pleasure of me." A huge well-spring of tender delight burst in the Vulcan's heart. Love and laughter and joy spilled out of his mind and into Kirk's and the human lifted his head and laughed up into the smiling, brown eyes.

"Had enough, Mr. Spock?" he said innocently.

"Never!" Recklessly, joyously.

Kirk laughed again and suddenly it was all easy, without speaking they both rolled to different sides of the bed, finished undressing and lay down together, side-by-side, just looking. They had seen one another naked before, but there had never been time to look, to appreciate and neither had ever before dared to let his curiosity run free.

Kirk put out a hand and cupped his lover's face. "Okay?"

"Oh yes."

"Come here then," and Kirk reached out and drew his lover into his arms and they wrapped themselves round one another, tangling arms and legs and holding hard.

It felt so good - the heat and the strength of it, the shock waves of pleasure that radiated out from where his penis nestled next to Jim's between their bellies - that it was several seconds before Spock sorted out the physical sensations that were clamouring for his attention.

It was not at all how he had imagined it, in weak moments when his control slipped, in dreams. There was more sensation, more sound, more... everything. He had anticipated the touch of mouth and hands and genitals but not that of legs and arms and shoulders, the smooth expanse of chest, the crinkle of pubic hair and for some reason he had entirely forgotten to include the weight of Jim's body upon his in his imaginings. Overwhelmed, he drew his lover's mouth of meet his own and poured his love into a kiss that smashed Kirk's fragile control.

Kirk had wanted so much to pace this, to take it slow and easy but he couldn't, not now. He grabbed the narrow hips and ground himself against Spock, groaning with delight as he felt the suddenly slick slide of his lover surging up to meet him, rising and falling with the same desperate need to give and to receive.

The pressure and friction were a torment and a delight and they struggled for a moment before finding a rhythm that sent them driving against one another, trapping sensitive flesh between hard-muscled bodies which fought for completion.

Spock's head was thrown back as he fought for breath, pleasure flooded though him, sweeping away thought and the last vestiges of his fear. Heat clawed at him and the tension built and built and built until he could feel the pull of it in every muscle in his body. He reached out, not knowing the end for which he strove but only knowing that he must find it.

Kirk looked up and saw both the need and the ignorance and threw his arms round him. "Let go love, let it happen," he whispered, urgently, "I've got you, I won't let go - ever." Then, realizing that control ran too deep to be easily released, he abandoned the last, tattered remnants of his own restraint. "Here love, like this," and he threw himself into his own climax, rushing through it to be ready when Spock finally surrendered to the inevitable.

The blood-hot, liquid pulse bathing his genitals was the last straw. Spock froze, poised for an eternal second on the edge of annihilation. Then something seemed to shatter deep within him. An almost painful ecstasy exploded outwards through every limb, every cell, every atom then snapped back with shocking force to centre in the climax that erupted from him, irretrievably scattering everything he had once been, never to be recaptured, never to be regretted.

Kirk held on tight as Spock heaved and twisted in his arms. He tried to imagine what it must be like to know this for the first time as an adult and failed miserably. Control was so important to Vulcans - was this a liberation for Spock or a violation?

They lay side by side on the same pillow and at first Spock was conscious only of the last fading ripples of his pleasure and of the arms that held him, safe haven after storm winds. Then, after a moment, he felt human breath on his cheek, cool and moist and intimate. Joy ran through him, like electricity beneath his skin, an emotion so vast there were no words fit to describe it and he let go of thought altogether in favour of a kind of silent, singing exaltation that fizzled through his veins. Without opening his eyes, he leaned forward and kissed the nearest shoulder and, as he did so, he felt an unexpected tension drain away from the body in his arms and when Kirk rolled onto his back tugging Spock after him to lie, Vulcan head on human shoulder, he went willingly.

They both knew there were words to be said and promises to be made but not here, not now, not in this warm, quiet place where the galaxy had distilled all the joy it had to offer down to the simple sensation of Jim's chest rising and falling beneath his cheek, to the weight of Spock's head on his shoulder and the silk brush of his hair. As the movement slowed and his lover's breathing returned to normal, a deep, contented lassitude stole over Spock. He felt secure and he felt loved and, although he wanted to stay awake and savour them both, sleep began to draw him under.

For the first time Kirk could remember, Spock yawned.

Kirk laughed softly. "I'll try not to take that personally, Commander." He kissed Spock lightly on the cheek. "It's okay, go to sleep if you need to. We'll both be here in the morning." He twisted round and snagged his own shirt off the floor and, carefully turning the buttons away, swabbed them both dry. "Just remind me not to send this to the ship's laundry."

Oddly warmed by the prosaic comment, Spock closed his eyes as Kirk fished around for the bedclothes and drew them over them both. "I was under the impression that immediate sleep was considered impolite."

"Well, I'm not suggesting you make a habit of it but, after the day we've had, I think 'the cause is sufficient'," Kirk quoted wryly and was rewarded by a distinct crinkling round the closed eyes. He kissed them both and the end of a bony nose. "I mean it. It's okay to sleep. Don't forget, I've seen from the inside what a meld takes out of you and three in one day must be some kind of record. I figure if I'm tired, you must be exhausted. So go to sleep, anything that needs saying can be said tomorrow."

"Do I wait until tomorrow to tell you that I love you?"

"No!"

"I love you, Jim."

"I love you, Spock."

"I find that as gratifying as it is astounding."

"Yeah, me too." Kirk could feel the sudden bonelessness of the man in his arms. In the half-light that filtered in from the main cabin he saw Spock's face, peaceful and contented, on the pillow next to him and quite suddenly his own happiness drenched him, like warm rain.

Normally he didn't like sleeping all tangled up with another person, usually he would roll away to sleep alone. On the few occasions as a junior officer he had shared one of these narrow bunks, he had always used the cramped conditions as an excuse to leave and seek his own bed; but somehow tonight it never occurred to him to go and he waited until Spock was deeply asleep and then turned over and tucked himself into the warm Vulcan lap, drifting off to the feel of a long arm wrapping itself round his chest.

It seemed to Kirk that he awoke only minutes later. For a few panicked seconds, he did not recognize where he was and looked round frantically, his heart thudding in his chest. Then memory hit him and his skin crawled. Oh God, what have I done? The body in the bed behind him stirred and he froze, willing him to stay asleep. He didn't think he could bear to be touched again.

Carefully he rolled to the very edge of the bed and wrapped his arms round himself. His whole body ached. He hadn't expected him to be so strong, and worse than that, worse even than the bruises and the taste of a stranger in his mouth, was the knowledge of what they had just done. Now that the nagging hunger of recent weeks and months was gone, he had no difficulty in recognizing what had just happened for what it was - an abomination - and all the whispered lies in the dark could make it nothing else.

His eyes stung and for the first time in years he thought he might cry. He was trembling and a sudden fear that the man behind him would feel it and wake up, sent a surge of adrenaline through his system. The urge to get up and run almost over-powered him.

Spock came awake with the instant awareness of his race and saw the hunched shoulder of his lover, glistening with sweat in the flickering light of the Fireshrine. He put out a gentle hand. "Jim?"

Kirk exploded into movement; with a hoarse cry he launched himself out of bed and rolled away from it, desperate to escape. There was nowhere to go and he crashed into the wall and turned, still fighting to get away.

For a long beat Kirk pushed against the wall, hands and feet scrabbling for purchase on the smooth floor and then reality crashed over him and he slumped against the wall, panting and trembling. It had all happened so quickly it was over before Spock managed to untangle himself from the

bedclothes.

Kirk was still shaking, still fighting for breath and Spock's instinct was to embrace the shivering man on the floor, to take him back to their bed and hold him until the tremors died and he was at peace; but Kirk was radiating a familiar aura, the 'keep back', 'leave me alone', 'don't touch' he had seen so many times before and so he did nothing.

"Hope I didn't scare you." Kirk's heart was still pounding painfully and he could smell the stink of fear in his own sweat.

"No, of course not, are you..."

"I'm fine - just a bad dream." He passed a hand over his face. "Hell I'm sweating like a pig - I need a shower." He scrambled to his feet and was gone before his lover could speak.

Spock rescued the tangle of bedclothes from the floor and set the bed to rights, thinking furiously. He knew the emotion, the experience of love but the process of being in love, of conducting a relationship, was a foreign country to him and, for almost the first time that night, he was conscious of the burden of his inexperience.

He knew only what he had read and he was beginning to realize how little assistance he could expect from the experience of others. His researches, conducted as soon as he had recognized that his feelings towards his captain could no longer be characterized as 'esteem', had led him to believe that, once love was openly acknowledged by both parties, the next stage was the sharing of life experiences, both good and bad. Jim's obvious need to be alone with his equally obvious distress did not fit with this paradigm at all and he found himself becoming increasingly uneasy.

He was very well aware of Jim's protectiveness towards him. Was this merely another example of it? Was Jim still trying to shield him?

Another more horrible thought occurred. Jim was a generous man, had he come to this bed merely as a sop to Spock's distress, offering his body for his friend as he had offered his life on other occasions too numerous to count? Spock shook himself mentally, this was foolishness. These were no doubt the uncertainties he had read of, inevitable in a non-telepathic union; for who could know the mind of another without the meld he had carefully schooled himself not to expect?

He was startled and even faintly amused to find that this careful analysis brought him no comfort at all and, feeling naked for the first time that night, he got under the covers and stared up at the ceiling, listening to the muted hiss of the water shower, uncertain whether to stay where he was or go to his lover.

Kirk stood under the pounding water, the jet powering at the tense muscles at the back of his neck.

Shit, how long had it been since that little horror last turned up? Must be close on a year now. Well, there was no point in trying to get back to sleep, that's for damn sure. Never mind - can't be helped, gotta keep moving. Better get dressed and go and put the fear of god into the dog watch. Scotty runs Engineering with a rod of iron but Environmental Control could do with a shake-up and it would take his mind off the past. If he wasn't careful he'd find himself back on the familiar memory treadmill and he was damned if he was going to devote any more time to that

bastard - funny how he could never remember what he looked like when he was awake but had no difficulty when he dreamed, it was almost.... no, stop it. Find the soap, wash your hair and get moving, Kirk.

Ten minutes went by and then another ten. Suddenly harsh light filled the cabin and then died as the door to the bathroom opened and closed. Kirk stood at the entrance to the sleeping quarters, a towel round his waist but otherwise naked. Physically he seemed fine, his stance was easy, his hands relaxed, but somehow beneath all that an indefinable tension still showed through.

Their eyes met and Kirk smiled, apologetically. "Sorry."

"For the dream?" Spock was determined to understand.

Kirk sat on the bed, his back to Spock, his elbows on his knees and shook his head. "Nooo, for the mad dash out of here afterwards." He looked at his hands and for the first time that night his voice was uncertain. "You know, I can be very dumb at times. I was in there," he gestured towards the bathroom. "Making all the usual plans for dealing with that little blast from the past, when I suddenly realized." He turned and looked Spock in the eye, his expression open, loving, a little rueful. "I don't have to do this alone any more, do I?"

"No." Released into action by the relief that flooded through him, Spock threw back the blankets and, shuffling over, sat behind Kirk, his legs on either side of the refreshingly cool thighs. His arms came round Kirk's chest and he rested his chin on Kirk's shoulder, his cheek against his lover's, making a first and probably ineffective attempt at physical comfort.

Kirk put his arms over Spock's and rubbed his cheek against him. "I'm glad you're here," he said softly. They rocked gently for long, warm minutes, letting the peace sink in, until Kirk spoke again. "This feels really odd - nice but definitely odd."

"Odd?"

"Well, I'm not used to being comforted - I've always been alone before," he chuckled and Spock felt the flutter of genuine amusement beneath his hands. "That sounds unnecessarily pathetic. I'm sure there were people who would have helped if I'd been ready to let them but ... I don't know ... I've always felt it was my job to be the strong one."

He wriggled out of Spock's arms and swivelled round to face him. "It's going to take some getting used to - I hope I can do it." He shrugged awkwardly. "I've never been very good at delegating."

Then, reading the faint uncertainty behind the carefully attentive expression, he cupped a warm cheek in his palm and smiled as Spock pressed a kiss into it. "Don't worry, this doesn't mean I'm suddenly turning into a bundle of mush you'll have to shore up at every crisis, it's just..." He gestured helplessly.

"That we can be strong together." Spock completed. His deep voice was calm, almost matter of fact, it was only in the eyes that the joy could be seen.

Kirk saw and smiled back. Then he turned back into the embrace and, picking up the long arms, wound them back round himself. "You feel so warm. I don't feel chilly to you, do I?"

"No - I am desert-born, we greatly prize the cool."

"Good - because I don't think I could give this up now." He pressed back, enjoying the hard, dry heat behind him.

"Are you recovered?"

"Yeah, I'm all right. That dream's an old friend from Tarsus days." He patted the hands beneath his own and offered comfort even as he took it. "Don't get the wrong idea, Tarsus hasn't been a blight on my life or anything melodramatic like that. In a bad year I get that dream maybe twice. It's not even a particularly nasty one. If you really want to see a nightmare, stick around until the one about Gary turns up, or the one about M5 - that one's a real doozey!"

Spock considered carefully. He realized he had erred in accepting the offhand bravado of that conversation on Earth at face value, the past held far too strong a hold. "Will you tell me about Tarsus?" He asked, testing the limits of the help he was to be allowed to give. He swallowed hard as he felt the answering nod.

"If you want me to." Then, with sudden determination, "But not tonight, I don't want him in our bed."

Filing away for later consideration the warm sensation brought on by the use of the possessive pronoun, Spock abandoned the subject for the time being and nuzzled the back of the clippered neck, drinking in the scent of newly-washed human. He had never thought of the odour of Starfleet-issue soap as particularly pleasant, indeed it was not supposed to have an odour at all, however despite that the smell of Jim's hair was most agreeable. He put out his tongue and stroked the short hair against the grain, feeling Jim start and shiver at his touch. He untangled his

fingers from Kirk's and touched his human, tracing the outline of an ear with one finger, moving over his face with careful precision.

Kirk closed his eyes and leaned back into the caress. He'd been touched before, on half a hundred worlds by people he'd barely known and could not now remember but he knew that only love touches your face like this, gentle fingertips on cheeks and nose and brow, tracing the outline of every feature, absorbing the contours and textures, feeling the faint scrape of tomorrow's stubble and the perspiration on the upper lip. As the fingers trailed over his lips he bit at them gently, trapping them between his teeth so that he could lick and suck.

The gentle tug of the suction echoed through Spock's body and he pulled his hand free, shocked by the strength of the sensation. He ran his wet fingers down the line of Jim's jaw, his throat and then the flat of his hand over the taut skin of his chest watching in astonishment as even this gentle, unskilled touch caused Jim's eyes to close and his head to fall back. He circled over the rose-brown nipples and felt them harden and press into his palm and then felt the vibration as Jim groaned and shuddered beneath his hand.

Remembering the newly discovered sensitivity of his own ears, he experimented, nibbling the lobes and blowing kisses inside the delicately pink hollows. He could see Jim's eyes were screwed shut and there was a look of fierce concentration on his face, as though he were determined not to let a single second of the experience go unsavoured.

He untwisted the towel, unwrapping his lover like a gift, and Kirk's back arched as a hot hand smoothed across his stomach, searching out the erection that had blossomed with the first tentative touch of Spock's mouth on his skin.

As the hand closed round him, Kirk's breath hissed inwards, a thin thread of sound that spoke of pleasure so great it was almost pain. He put a hand over Spock's, stilling the first hesitant and shockingly pleasurable strokes. "Stop a minute Spock, or this is going to be over before it's begun."

Obediently Spock halted and they sat for a moment as Kirk fought the urge to thrust into the hand that held him and Spock tried to analyse the sensory input he was receiving. He could feel his own erection pressing against the cool, firm body in his arms and he could feel Jim's in his hand, a pulse beating under his thumb, the shaft filling his palm. He tentatively identified the emotion that flooded him as a combination of joy and sexual arousal and, resting his cheek on Kirk's shoulder, he gave himself up to the sensation, letting his mind wander.

Kirk had just about got himself under control when, to his astonishment, he felt the unmistakable vibration of laughter coming from behind him. He dug a playful elbow back into Spock's ribs. "Hint number two, Commander," he said, firmly. "It is not generally thought polite to grab a guy by the dick and start laughing."

Spock let go of him and rolled them both over onto their sides and after a certain amount of wriggling and twisting they ended up facing one another on the narrow bunk.

Spock looked down at where they lay side-by-side, tip-to-tip and root-to-root, and Kirk felt again the silent laughter, a sensation as much mental as physical.

"What?" he said, beginning to laugh himself from sheer happiness and a sudden realization of just how... unusual the whole damn situation was. "I'm in bed with my First Officer and we've both got the giggles," he thought and the very idea set him off again.

Spock looked up and Kirk could see the amusement in his eyes. "This will no doubt appear deplorably juvenile, however, I had always assumed that the difference in our heights would be reflected in.." He got no further as Kirk threw back his head and howled with laughter.

"Me too!" he crowed and Spock lay back and enjoyed the sight.

Then, when Jim showed signs of recovery, Spock pushed him back over the edge again. "I do not however believe," he said in his best Science Officer tones, "that this is what Admiral Komack meant when he said we were the best-matched command team in the fleet."

Kirk swept him up into a laughing bear hug, unsure where his own laughter ended and Spock's began. "He was more right than he knew! Here we are, supposedly Starfleet's brightest and best, both of us lying on either side of the same damn wall, both of us loving, both of us wanting, both of us determined to say nothing." He began to enjoy the absurdity and his voice took on a deeply appreciative tone. "Both of us nobly convincing ourselves we could love platonically and spiritually and yet somehow both of us got round to speculating on the size of each other's um... equipment." He planted a kiss on the end of Spock's nose. "It's a wonder we ever got this ship out of dock!"

Spock kissed him back enthusiastically and lay for a moment, warmly content until, as the laughter faded, he became aware once more of the press and texture of the body he held against his own. He closed his eyes and focused his senses on it; picking up the regular breathing; the muted thud of the sluggish human heartbeat against his sternum and the gentle tick of the pulse in neck and hands and groin. His arms tightened as his own pulse picked up speed.

Kirk recognized the return of desire in both of them and began to move his hands, smoothing the long, narrow back, massaging the corded muscles in the neck, feeling Spock relax beneath his palms. They kissed, gently at first and then with rising heat until they were twisting in one another's arms; pressing close, each feeling the growing hardness of himself and his lover, each slightly shocked by the speed of his own arousal.

Kirk tore his mouth away, shivering with nervous excitement. "I'd like to try something else - is that okay?"

"The human craving for novelty..." began Spock, who had been enjoying himself immensely, but his mouth was stopped by a kiss which drove all thought of protest from his head and after a few, intensely exciting minutes he gave in and rolled onto his back, waiting.

Kirk lay on his side next to him, smoothing his thumb over the forehead above the upswept brows. "You were saying?" he asked blandly.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes that is er.. okay."

Kirk smiled his fallen-angel smile and Spock's already racing heartbeat went into overdrive, as the golden head bent once more.

"Let me see now." Kirk's voice was a mere breath against his cheek. "You liked this, didn't you?" He kissed the elegant ears, one after the other, exploring their extravagantly beautiful arch and curve. "And you liked this." He kissed Spock's lips, warmly, gently, thrusting his tongue into the accepting mouth. "And you liked this." He lapped wetly at the pebble-hard nipples as he inched his body downwards, sliding a hand over the concave belly, over a jutting hipbone to the hard, hot thigh. "And believe me, you're going to love this."

A cool hand swept up and cupped his testicles at the very moment that Jim's mouth (Jim's mouth!) closed over the head of his penis. Spock arched uncontrollably as coherent thought fled. It was hard, it was soft, it was hot, it was cool, it was terrifying and it was wonderful. He could feel the ridges on the roof of Jim's mouth, the slippery strength of Jim's tongue, the gentle insistence of Jim's hand, Jim's teeth scraping gently, Jim's breath, Jim... He came - hard. The already familiar sensation even more overwhelming than before because he now knew what he would

feel. The anticipation and the knowledge of whose mouth held him doubled and redoubled the pleasure that seized him, irresistible and unopposed.

Kirk raised his head and grinned up at him; loving, happy and just a trifle, the merest trifle, smug. With a growl, Spock clamped his hands over Kirk's arms and heaved and the human found himself flying through the air towards the top of the bed, laughing uncontrollably as his head missed the back wall by a hair's breadth.

With no experience outside this bed, Spock knew only what Kirk taught him so he rolled the human onto his back and kissed him deep and long until Jim was writhing beneath him. His confidence grew, Jim was wildly enthusiastic, groaning hoarse encouragement and endearments, bucking and twisting under his mouth and hands. First his lips and then downwards, kissing, sucking, biting, somehow managing to turn the smaller man so that chest and back and shoulders and thighs were all touched and tasted.

Spock crawled down the sweat-slick body, enjoying the sweet human salts and the taste of excitement. He had thought that all the pleasure in this action must be felt by the recipient but he had been wrong, there was something in the implied trust, the sheer intimacy of the moment that set his heart pounding. Moved in ways he could not identify, Spock bent his head.

His mouth was hot! Ludicrously Kirk had not expected it and he was so aroused the shock alone nearly tipped him over. He fought his way back from the brink, biting his lip so hard he drew blood. The pleasure of that gentle suction was incredible, rhythmic and insistent, he could feel the pull of it clear through to his spine.

He summoned every ounce of his experience to stave off climax, he didn't want it to end - it was too good. He extended a tentative hand, over the glossy, bent head and down to where he could feel himself and the mouth that tugged at him, the hollowed cheeks, the gentle lips that closed about him with such care. He arched and twisted, trying at once to drive himself deeper and to withdraw - not yet - not yet - not yet.

Spock lifted his head and looked up the beloved body, seeing the sheen of sweat, the heavy human muscles standing in sharp relief, the head thrown back, the face contorted in, what even his inexperience recognized as, intense pleasure.

He waited until Jim sank back onto the bed, until the tight-shut eyes opened and looked at him. Their eyes locked for a moment and then Spock dropped his gaze down to the thick, heavy organ that strained up towards him.

"Watch," he said softly.

Kirk's looked down, his eyes widening in startled arousal, as Spock wrapped two joined fingers round the shaft of his cock, just below the head. He smoothed the fingers down and up, from tip to base and back again and then over and round the head, circling, twisting and turning his hand, smearing their combined moisture over every inch of his fingers, working with careful, deliberate intent.

Kirk began to shake, his skin prickled with heat and his heart was pounding so hard he could feel it, high in his throat. He drew up his knees, parting them in helpless, willing acceptance of whatever Spock wanted and then found that what Spock wanted most was to give pleasure for pleasure received. A hot hand cradled his balls and he felt again the ecstasy of mouth and tongue, enfolding him, drawing him in, moving with gentleness and thoroughness and then those long, sensitive fingers burrowing with careful purpose under his balls and then up and back.

He heaved upwards, desperate to make way and accept and found that the movement only drove him deeper into his lover's mouth. Pleasure, more piercing than any he could remember, knifed through him and he cried out as he fell headlong into an orgasm so intense he almost fainted. He felt the white light he could see behind his eyelids force its way through him and out and for the first time in many, many years, he did not stand outside his own pleasure and observe it but was seized by it utterly; gripped and shaken and twisted; released by it only when it was done with him.

The aftershocks seemed to last for ages and he was still trembling when Spock crawled up the bed to take him in his arms. Kirk blinked at him, trying to refocus his eyes and catch his breath. "Spock, that was... incredible!"

Spock bowed his head in mock-acknowledgement of the praise and the gesture brought their heads close together, so he kissed Kirk, dipping his tongue gently into the cool mouth.

Kirk had tasted himself in other mouths and found the flavour, if anything, vaguely unpleasant but this was different and he took the sleek, dark head in his hands and pulled it down for another kiss. "God, Spock, you taste so good even I taste good."

Spock bent his head and kissed him again, warmly, slowly and fully. "I have no complaints on that score, I assure you."

They settled back together facing each other, heads close, arms and legs loosely intertwined.

"I can't get over that - I'm still shaking." He grinned. "The hesitant virgin stage didn't last very long, did it?"

"I refuse to believe you are in any way disappointed by that fact," answered Spock placidly.

"Oh quite the contrary." Kirk rolled up onto an elbow and looked down at his lover. "I don't know whether that was down to prior research or native talent but whichever it was - it worked." He dropped onto his back, pleasantly exhausted. "I always knew you'd be wonderful."

"I find that somewhat surprising as I did not."

"I don't see why. You have everything a beginner needs - love, gentleness, sensitivity," he shivered luxuriously, "creativity. Everything else is just practice."

Spock stretched cautiously, testing his body, trying to catalogue the unfamiliar physical reactions, wondering why the mere act of straightening his legs should cause another small earthquake of pleasure to run up his spine. "I feel curiously debilitated for such a relatively unstrenuous activity."

Kirk poked him in the ribs, enjoying the return of the curiosity that was so much a part of Spock. "It's called the afterglow, you unromantic Vulcan. You're supposed to lie here and enjoy the sensation of slightly fuzzy contentment."

"I did not say it was unpleasant," Spock protested lazily. "Merely unexpected - as indeed was nearly everything that has happened tonight."

Kirk laughed. "Spock, you have a positive genius for understatement," he said as he closed his eyes and rested his head on Spock's shoulder. The warm baritone purr was soothing, hypnotic almost and the sheer pleasure of lying in strong arms and listening to it, began to carry him away.

"For example, I had thought that sexual relations between males - between us - would be essentially... penetrative."

"Hmm?" By now Kirk was very sleepy and only mildly interested. "Of whom, by whom?"

"As I have no experience and therefore no preference it seemed logical to wait for you to express one." The familiar word brought the expected grin.

"Plenty of time for that later," comfortably, "we'll try 'em both, see what you like. They can both be very pleasurable in different ways." He snuggled down and threw an arm over Spock's chest. "Hey you gonna turn over? There's no room in here for anyone to sleep on his back." He closed his eyes and then opened them again when Spock didn't move.

"I take it your sexual experience has expanded since New York."

Kirk struggled back up onto one elbow and looked down, was that disapproval, anxiety? He fumbled for words, fighting the drowsiness that dragged at him. "Look I'm sorry if you're disappointed ... or something... but I've been sexually active for," he looked momentarily startled, "the best part of twenty years now. Anything that unexpected comes leaping out of my subconscious eventually I'm going to want to explore it. It was months before I wanted to think about New York and even longer before I remembered that night and by that time the memories had faded. I couldn't be sure what it all meant - unsuspected latent bisexuality or an unsuspected attraction to you. Since I thought you were unobtainable I had to do my er... research elsewhere."

Spock put out his arms and drew him back down to rest his head on his shoulder. Kirk shrugged mentally, obviously not disapproval, curiosity perhaps? "And which did you decide it was?"

"Both." Kirk yawned hugely and wondered if he was going to be allowed to get any sleep at all. "I soon realized that sex was just sex, the gender of the person I was having it with wasn't that important." He kissed the shoulder under his cheek. "A few months back I realized the important thing was that it wasn't you." Then, realizing how that might sound, he added, "You do realize, don't you love? This wasn't just sex - this was making love. There is a difference."

"Which is?"

Kirk smiled sleepily. "Does it matter? You're never going to find out. Not if I have anything to say about it." There was a long pause and he was on the very edge of oblivion when Spock's next words shocked him awake.

"That was generous but not necessary."

"WHAT!" He propped himself back up and looked down at Spock, who looked back apparently perfectly calm. "What do you mean - not necessary?" He cudgelled his sleeping wits back to life.

"Didn't you see?" He gestured with splayed fingers towards his own temple.

Then, like a shock of cold water, he realized. "You didn't see, did you? Of course you didn't! You didn't even look, you were too busy being ashamed." Wide awake now, he sat up. "I knew that, I saw that - how the hell could I forget?"

Spock had lost track of the conversation. "Jim, I don't understand. What did you forget?"

"I forgot I was the only bastard round here who'd take advantage of a chance to peer into another man's mind." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I claim to love you and all I did was cheat you."

"Jim?" Seriously concerned, Spock sat up and put a hand on Kirk's arm. "What is wrong?"

"Don't you see? If you'd been human I'd have talked to you, I'd have told you what I feel and what you are to me. And if I'd been Vulcan, I'd have remembered that you didn't know and we'd have melded so I could show you. Spock, one of the reasons tonight was so good for me is because, after all the doubts and uncertainties, I know what you feel." He reached out to touch and pulled his hands back, stricken. "And I robbed you of that. I'm sorry - this could have been so much more for you."

Spock leaned over and kissed him, his happiness a warm blanket that enveloped them both. To be known like this, to be trusted like this, to be loved like this. He raised his head and put a finger over the lips that would have rushed back into speech. "Hush Jim," he said gently. "Do not

distress yourself. I have already had more this night than I ever dreamed possible. Indeed," he added with blessedly familiar irony, "had there been any more to this experience I doubt I could have survived it."

Immeasurably relieved, Kirk dropped down onto his back and covered his eyes with an arm. He groaned, as he replayed his behaviour over the last few hours and felt himself begin to blush.

"Oh god, I must have seemed horribly," his unreliable sense of humour supplied the word 'cocky' and he hurried to replace it with, "arrogant. It's just it was such a relief to know how you feel... and then we ended up here... and I thought you were shy. I thought you'd be happier if I took the lead. I thought you were quiet because it was new, not because you didn't know where you were with me." He rolled over and looked Spock in the eye from a distance of only a few inches. "I'm so sorry."

Spock thought about protesting but decided not to, Jim obviously felt the need to apologize and it would probably be considerate to let him. So he leant over and kissed him again, thoroughly; reflecting as he did so that kissing was a surprisingly efficient activity. In this situation it (a) demonstrated lack of rancour and (b) re-established their earlier languorous mood. It was, in addition, extremely pleasurable.

When he eventually lifted his head, he drew back and looked at the human, waiting for the familiar path of decision and action. Kirk looked up at him, flushed and a little breathless.

"Spock, I'd really like us to put this right if we can. Is there any reason why we shouldn't...?" He picked up a warm hand and pressed it to the side of his face.

For a moment Spock didn't move, then there was a flurry of blankets and Kirk's breath huffed out as he was dragged into a warm, tight embrace. A deep voice in his ear whispered his name and he hugged back, humbled by the realisation of just how important this was to Spock. "Come on in, love," he whispered. "Make yourself at home."

He closed his eyes as he felt the first tentative tendrils of Spock's thoughts entwining with his own. This was better that he remembered, warmer, sweeter, gentler; with clumsy haste he laid his thoughts out before his love like a royal carpet. This is what I am and this is how I love you.

It might have been a minute or an hour later when Spock removed his hand and they rolled into each other's arms, equality of knowledge bringing equality of happiness.

Long minutes later Kirk lifted his head. "You know what's really strange about this, don't you?"

Spock pulled back and looked at his lover quizzically. "I thought I was the being in this relationship with the tendency to over-analyse. Is there really anything more that requires verbal expression?"

"Well, didn't you think it was interesting to find out we were both worried about the same thing? Adapting to sharing our lives with another person."

"I was surprised only by the depth of your trepidation - you seemed so confident earlier."

"Oh I've never had any difficulty making love - it's holding on to it I'm no good at."

Spock shrugged and Kirk fell in love all over again, it was such a... an... unSpockian movement, all loose-limbed and languidly self-assured. "Jim, we have both been alone too long for this to be easy for either of us. However, I find it difficult to believe that we will not be able to make the necessary adjustments eventually."

Kirk giggled, the silly mood returning with a vengeance, his remaining worries swept away, for the time being at least, by that calm, magisterial confidence. "You realize we are in for some humungous arguments? You'll go all haughty and polysyllabic..."

"And you will sulk," interrupted Spock, pointedly.

"Very probably," he agreed cheerfully.

Spock arched an eyebrow, almost entirely because he now knew how much Kirk adored it. "You seem to regard the prospect of our future disagreements with remarkable equanimity."

"With this much love around here, I can afford to. Besides," Kirk waggled his eyebrows meaningfully, "after the argument comes the making up."

Spock considered that for a moment. "Is the argument a prerequisite to the making up?"

"Why, what do you have in mind?"

"I thought we might investigate... preferences."

"Now?" Kirk was incredulous and regretful in roughly equal measure. "I thought you were the one round here with the time sense. We're on duty in..." He looked at the chrono and groaned. "One hour and 11 minutes. I think we'll need longer than that to decide what we like, don't you?"

"You may be right. It is obviously not a decision to be taken lightly or indeed quickly. Gathering the experimental data alone will be a lengthy process."

"Add to that the necessary analysis of that data and the whole thing could take years, couldn't it, Science Officer?"

"I believe we may both count on it taking a lifetime, Captain."

THE END

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