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Author's Chapter Notes:

This story is dedicated to KitchenWitch1994 and my beta Spockaholic. I couldn't have completed this without you guys!


The One Where Spock Has a Big Gay Epiphany

(And Jim Also Curses a Lot)

Being in unrequited love with your best friend sucked.

It was a fact that Jim had become intimately familiar with over the past eight months—ever since he had stopped dismissing his feelings for Spock as ones of deep friendship, and admitted to his frequent and overpowering urges to pin his First to the nearest flat surface and fuck the emotional control right on out of him.

And his come-to-Jesus had been all Bones' fault, the interfering bastard.

Jim swears he'll never get drunk in his friend's presence again—at least not while the doctor stays sober, because Jim has learned the hard way that he's a loud-mouth fucking drunk, and prone to fits of introspection the more sloshed he gets. That's a dangerous combination when your drinking buddy is a amateur psychologist, but downright deadly if he's also your surrogate older brother, who will poke and prod you into spouting stupid and embarrassing and damningly true declarations while halfway out of your mind with drink.

At least Bones hadn't given him shit about it afterwards. Much. And Jim was able to get him back by sharing the details of his erotic, Spock-centric fantasies. Bones made a hilarious scrunchy face whenever Jim did it, and one time he'd even plugged his ears and started humming "Georgia on My Mind" to block Jim out as he'd waxed poetic about the hypothetical alien size, shape, taste, texture, and color of Spock's dick.

But while Bones might bristle and make faces and mime gagging whenever Jim made a complimentary observation about any attribute of Spock's, Jim knew that deep down that Bones was the head cheerleader for them getting it on. He wasn't sure which part of that was more terrifying —the visual of Bones jumping up and down in a frilly skirt waving pom-poms, or that fact that Bones actually thought he and Spock would be good together.

Well, okay, Bones might have said something more along the lines of "an absolutely terrifying example of emotional ineptitude," but Jim's an expert at looking past the bluster.

But, yeah, to sum up: Love + Best Friend – Reciprocation = Total Fucking Misery, at least in Jim's case.

Especially since Spock knew shit about women, and constantly came running to him for help with Uhura.

Before he'd realized he was bat-shit-crazy in love with Spock, Jim had found it amusing. Spock's questions would range from what to get Uhura for her birthday to why she would take offence to him saying, "Indeed, Nyota. Your body mass does seem to have increased significantly in the past 3.8 months. Perhaps it would be beneficial to undergo a more strenuous exercise regimen."

Dear god, Uhura had to have the patience of a freaking saint with as often as Spock told Jim he'd fucked up somehow. Jim usually did his best to explain to Spock what he'd done wrong, but there was only so much help a third party could offer, especially when Uhura was so goddamn inflexible when it came to expecting Spock to act/react the way a human would. But if there was one facet of relationships that Jim was good with, it was damage control, and he usually tried to give Spock the best advice he could.

And then came the "Oh, fuck. I'm in love with him," moment, and Spock's woeful tales of relationship drama and pleas for "counsel" became less than fucking amusing. But as tempting as it had been to use those opportunities to sabotage Spock and Uhura's relationship, he cared about Spock, and Spock…loved Uhura, in his own way, and Jim's never been that much of a dick.

But that didn't make him a masochist, thank you very much (despite an abundance of damning evidence to the contrary), and he started avoiding those conversations as much as he possibly could, because it stung too fucking much that Spock goddamn agonized over every perceived misstep and always took the blame for anything bad that happened in that relationship, when it was clear to Jim that Uhura was a fucking uncompromising bitch. (Although, that might have been the bitterness talking.)

Sometimes though, he couldn't avoid it. And he thought it a testament to his self-control and rapidly increasing maturity that he managed to make sympathetic noises in all the right places instead of declaring his undying love and then convincing Spock with his enthusiastic and talented tongue that he was the better romantic choice all around.

For a while, at least.

Okay, to be fair, when it finally happened Jim had been having a pretty shitty day.

His replicator had broken before shift, leaving him to stumble onto the bridge with only three hours of sleep and without his customary don't-even-fucking-try-to-talk-to-me-before-I-finish-this cup of coffee. Before he'd been able to send Janice to fetch a triple shot, he'd been summoned to his ready room for a private communiqué, where Nogura had spent over an hour chewing him out for the trade negotiations falling apart on Hiynkiyth III (because obviously it was his fault that the Hiynth considered blue eyes a sign of demonic possession). To top off his fucking cherry of a day, he'd had his quarterly physical with Bones, who'd put him on dietary restrictions yet again, and hit him with an immunization that sent him into anaphylactic shock two corridors down from sickbay.

So when the love of his life—who he really needed to bone, because Lil' Jimmy didn't seem to want to play with anyone else—came to him that evening and haltingly asked what he was supposed to do about his girlfriend wanting him to "be more demonstrative," Jim had just been done with the universe, and acted without thinking.

"You know what you should do?" he said with an almost manic edge to his words. "This is what you should do."

And then he reached out to tangle his fingers in Spock's hair and slam their lips together.

It was a testament to how surprised Spock was that Jim managed not only to slip him the tongue, but also back him up against the wall, where Jim pressed them together as tight as he could while rutting against Spock's thigh like a finesseless horn-dog teenager. Jim had expected to be thrown across the room within the first ten seconds, so it was a complete fucking shock (albeit an amazingly pleasant one) when Spock started to kiss him back, and even grabbed onto his ass to help him catch a better angle to grind into his cock.

But then Jim made a fatal mistake—he dragged the blunt edges of his nails down Spock's scalp just behind his ears and over the nape of his neck, which made Spock rip away from their kiss to throw his head back against the wall and keen like Jim had just put a live-fucking-wire straight against the pleasure center of his brain. Then he practically melted into the wall, and Jim pulled away to blink in amazement at the wet spot seeping through Spock's pants.

He felt smug for all of about five seconds (he'd just made a fucking Vulcan cum in his pants) before Spock raised his head to stare at him with a kind of blank wonder that really really creeped him out.

"Oh," Spock said quietly, and Jim nearly broke into hysterical laughter in response, only managing to rein it in because it would be really inappropriate, considering he had just helped Spock cheat on Uhura.

He had just helped Spock cheat on Uhura.

He was the other man. Oh


Jim untangled his fingers from Spock's hair and zipped across his quarters until the desk and a good six feet of space was between them, which was totally, unquestionably, completely necessary, because his cock was begging for some attention and he was about three seconds from spacing his better judgment and pleading with Spock for a BJ, consequences be damned.

(And anything worth doing was worth doing well, right? He might as well get an orgasm out of this cluster fuck, and Spock wouldn't be any more of a cheater five minutes from now, even if he did have his surprisingly soft and plush lips wrapped around—)


Somewhere during his introspective freak out Spock had straightened himself out so he no longer looked like he'd just gotten the faithfulness dry-humped out of him in a blitz attack by his commanding fucking officer.

Jim's voice cracked like a pubescent dickwad's. "Yes, Spock?"

"Thank you for your assistance. It was most…illuminating."

It was only because Jim was busy choking on air that he didn't stop Spock from marching out of his cabin, presumably (considering the constipated expression on his face) to find Uhura.


Jim spent the next few hours flipping the fuck out. He scrubbed the scent and taste of Spock's skin and lips and tongue off of his body and out of his mouth, and shoved his rumpled uniform to the very bottom of his hamper. Then he paced and paced and paced, because what he really wanted to do was track Spock down and force him to explain just what the fuck he'd meant by "illuminating," and what he needed to do was rub one out to take the edge off, and he couldn't—wouldn't—do either.

He eventually hauled ass to the gym, where he managed to convince Cupcake and a few of his guys to spar with him, and he didn't do well in the match because he was distracted and still weak from his earlier allergic reaction, but he did well enough to retain his pride, which was all he could really ask for. He returned to his cabin and grabbed yet another shower and resolutely refused to beat off to the memory of Spock's hands on his ass. Then he sprawled out on his bed with a paperback copy of Gulliver's Travels and pretended to read while he brooded over how to explain all this to Uhura without getting his nuts chopped off and fed to rabid space monkeys.

Three hours later, he'd come up with nothing. Despite his reputation, the one thing Jim had never been was a home wrecker (or, you know, whatever the equivalent was), so he had no fucking clue how you were supposed to go about apologizing for something like this. Flowers? A Card? A fucking cookie with "Sorry I Frotted Your Boyfriend" spelled out in chocolate chips?

He was so dead. And he had no illusions that his rank would deter Uhura from doing some manner of awful thing to him. She was smart enough to cover it up, too. Especially if she enlisted Sulu's help.

Shit. As much as Sulu liked him, Jim knew for a fact that his navigator had been harboring a major crush on Uhura from almost day one of the mission. He probably had some nefarious plant in the greenhouse that could gobble up a human body and dissolve the bones into gelatin. And then Sulu would pull a Soylent Green and serve it in the mess, and then the whole crew would be complicit in disposing of his body. And Spock was so fucking honorable he'd probably have to commit Harry Carry for consuming human flesh, and, Christ, seeing Sweeney Todd when he was twelve had really fucked Jim up.

He tossed his book aside and decided to nut up and go beg Bones for a sleeping aid. If he kept brooding at the ceiling he was going to develop a complex, and even suffering through Bones' sanctimonious hyena laugh couldn't be as bad as all that. He was halfway to the door when the chime sounded.

He froze, then choked, then swore a blue streak, then paced back and forth while scheming up a way to escape through the air vents.

"Computer, identify caller."

"Commander Spock," the computer purred, and goddamit, he'd told IT to fix that.

"Ah," Jim squeaked. He hopped in place for a bit before booking it behind his desk, because it was his shitty impulse control that had gotten him into this mess in the first place, but at least if there was a desk between him and Spock he'd have a hell of a time vaulting over it in an attempt to maul his First.


Spock entered the room looking as pristine and unaffected as ever, which was a surprise, because Jim had expected a reappearance of the Great Wall of Vulcan, which tended to crop up around Spock whenever he thought he'd been acting overly emotional. The first time Spock had erected that wall was in the wake of the first ever perceptible smile he'd flashed Jim's way. But, no, Spock seemed perfectly normal. There was a bit of an evaluating glint in his stare, but Jim had long grown used to being subjected to Spock's scrutiny.

He cleared his throat, but couldn't actually find it in himself to speak. He genuinely didn't want to hear anything Spock could have to say about this cluster fuck, all previous cravings for explanations aside. Spock couldn't have anything that wasn't completely soul-crushing to say.

"Jim," Spock said, and there was yet another surprise, "I wish to apologize for my earlier conduct."

Jim stared for a moment. Then, "What?"

"It was extremely impolite of me to leave so abruptly after—"

Jim didn't hear the rest because he was too busy laughing his ass off. He sank into his desk chair and laughed and laughed and laughed, and decided that one of the things he loved best about Spock was his ability to surprise him. Jim thought Spock had always been the golden child? Fuck that, Spock had been literally disowned when he ran away at 16 to join Starfleet. He though Spock had always been a straight laced prude? Spock had nearly joined a hippie commune his first year on Earth.

His laughter faded into silent chuckles, and Jim didn't bother to hide the fondness in his gaze when he lifted his face from his hands to look at Spock. Cat was already out of the fucking bag anyway.

"Spock, if anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. I freaking attacked you. I forced you to—"

"Jim," Spock said, and fuck if he didn't sound almost insulted. "I possess nearly three times your physical strength. Had I not wished for you to continue, I could have easily neutralized you."

Jim would have debated the point, except that his brain was busy replaying "had I not wished" on a continuous loop, which left little room for a flare of indignant masculine pride.

"In fact, I believe I owe you thanks." Jim's eyebrows shot clear to the back of his skull. "Had you not stimulated me, I would not have reached a new plateau of personal realization."

Jim waited, but Spock didn't elaborate. "I don't follow."

"I am homosexual."

At first, that didn't compute. Jim waited a minute, and then another, and then another, all the while doing what he was sure was a rather comical impression of a goldfish.

"Sorry—what?" he finally said.

Spock did that thing where he sighed in a long-suffering manner without actually sighing in a long-suffering manner.

"Forgive me, Jim, I assumed that you completed Xeno-cultural Studies 201 before you graduated from the academy."

Jim stood up, and planted his hands on his desk as he leaned forward. He demanded, very slowly, "Spock, what are you talking about?" because the situation was suddenly looking not so terribly bleak and he needed some fucking answers yesterday.

For the first time, Spock showed signs of anxiety. He shifted his hands behind his back so that his right was now cupping his left—not that Jim could see that from his current position, but he knew what that minute shifting of Spock's arms meant. Jim backed off a bit until he was standing normally behind his desk, though his hands were fisted at his sides.

"As you are well aware, Vulcans possess superior cognitive functions. We are able to control many bodily functions through sheer force of will. From a young age, we are put through extensive training so that these controls become second nature to us."

Jim's light bulb hadn't gone off yet, but he kept his features as neutral as possible while Spock continued.

"One of the first things we learn to control is the libido. To allow it free reign is to invite confusion and chaos into our lives, as sexual desire compromises our ability to remain impassive."

"Pretty faces don't affect you unless you want them to," Jim recalled.

"Correct," Spock said. "It was not until Nyota and I decided to engage in a romantic relationship that I began to loosen my rigid control over my libido."

"But you said—didn't you realize something was off when you didn't," he flailed his arms a bit, "respond to her?"

"Vulcans do not undergo the final stages of reproductive development until their late twenties to mid-thirties. They are generally not capable of experiencing a regular sex drive until that time."

That was a very disturbing piece of information. It meant Jim had basically been lusting after the Vulcan equivalent of an adolescent all this time. Jesus fuck, he was a goddamn pedo .

Bones was NEVER going to let him hear the end of this.

Spock finally met his gaze again, and said, a little helplessly, "It seemed normal."

"But," Jim prompted.

"But," Spock agreed, "when you kissed me, it felt… different. Right." Spock shrugged without shrugging. "I cannot explain it."

Jim just shook his head, because…wow. And Spock kept going.

"I always derived a certain sense of comfort from engaging in similar activities with Nyota. But it is not…I…"

"It's okay, Spock," he said, because it seemed kind of cruel to make him continue, and Jim didn't want to hear anything more about the "activities" Spock engaged in with Uhura ever. "You don't—I can't say I understand, because I've never…I'm bisexual. But my friend Julie said it was like putting on glasses for the first time."

Spock smiled ever so slightly, with his eyes. "An apt description."

Jim didn't want to ask the question, but he had to. "What does Uhura think about all this?"

Spock looked away, and Jim watched in amazement as Spock actually fucking blushed.

"She was not very surprised," was all Spock said, and Jim decided he didn't want to know.

"What now?"

Spock took a deep breath and seemed to regroup, because his laser-beam focus was back on Jim a heartbeat later.

"You are in love with me," Spock said with devastating confidence.

Jim's laugh was a little strangled. "Touch telepath."


"Fuck," Jim offered. And then a moment later, "Sorry."

"I understand the situation is somewhat overwhelming."

This time his laugh was relieved. "Have I ever told you that you have a singular talent for understatement, Mister Spock?"

"Approximately thirty times, Captain."

They grinned without grinning at each other for a minute, and right there, there it was, they were both finally on the same fucking page. Jim decided, fuck it, life's too goddamn short for this, and said, "So. We should go on a date."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm going to woo you, Spock. You are going to be subjected to the James T. Kirk Wooing Experience. Dates are a requisite part of the wooing. I'm going to take you beautiful places to do interesting things, and I'm going to flirt with you even more than I do now—don't look so surprised, I rein it in a lot—and do nice things for you and make myself so completely indispensable that you'll never be able to conceive of living life without me. You may not love me now, but that's going to change real soon, and you don't have any choice in the matter, because I don't know if you noticed, but I'm completely irresistible."

"I see." Spock looked faintly disinterested. "I suppose that would be acceptable."

"Shut up," Jim said, and he was grinning so goddamn hard he thought his cheeks were going to split open and start gushing blood all over his desk any minute now, which would be terribly unfortunate and not a little inconvenient, considering the piles of finished paperwork he had stacked there. "You need to leave right now, because if you stay, I can't promise I won't jump you again."

Spock hesitated for a moment, but it was so clearly just for fucking show that Jim couldn't help but laugh again. "You jackass. Out." He pointed to the door. "Now."

But Spock didn't move. The mirth in his eyes faded into something solemn and deep and fond that had Jim swallowing around the hope caught in his throat.

"In the interest of full disclosure," Spock said, and his voice was all slow and deep and—holy fuck, that had to be his sex voice, halle-fucking-lujah, Jim already loved his sex voice, "I feel it would be prudent to inform you that the task you are endeavoring to accomplish should not be a difficult one to achieve. In fact, I think you may find that you have already, at least partially, succeeded."

And then Spock nodded like this was all business as fucking usual, and strolled out of Jim's quarters as calmly as you please.

He was in such deep shit.

Holy Mother of Fucking God, YES!


Jim was so fucking ecstatic in the days following that it didn't actually occur to him to be looking over his shoulder for the Swahili spitfire that had every single one of his senior officers wrapped around her finger. It should have. When Uhura finally found him during beta shift three days later in a suspiciously deserted Rec Room D, Jim was completely unprepared for the swift right hook that nearly sent him flying off his feet. She was predictably pissed and yelled at him a lot, but mostly in Swahili, so Jim didn't catch most of it, at least until she switched over to English and threatened to take his balls if he did anything to hurt Spock.

Jim groveled, and tried to assure her this was all his fault and that she shouldn't blame Spock at all. Uhura sighed and smacked him upside the head, because of course she didn't blame Spock, mkundu, stop being such a blond. Jim got a bit confused after that, presumably because of all the head trauma, and Uhura kept sighing and muttering under her breath in languages that Jim didn't speak and making a fuck-ton more threats.

After a while Jim decided to just keep saying "Yes, ma'am," to everything she said, and hoped he wasn't agreeing to dance the hula nude at the next Federation Day party or colonize a planet in her name or anything. Although Jim was pretty sure he was going to have to approve any and all requests the Comms. Dept. made over the next few months without exception unless he wanted a mutiny on his hands, and Jim wasn't even sure Spock would be on his side if that happened, which was perhaps why Uhura was nowhere near as upset as he'd thought she'd be.

Of course, Jim made the mistake of mentioning that, which was when Uhura finally fell silent and then asked evenly, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, I don't think I'd be in anywhere near as a forgiving mood if my captain practically fucked my boyfriend."

Uhura stared at him incredulously for a moment, and Jim acknowledged that, yeah, he could have used a bit more tact there, when Uhura threw back her head and laughed so hard Jim thought she was going to fall off her fucking seat.

"What? What?" he demanded, panic rising. And that was when Uhura smacked him upside the head again.

"Stop that! Would you fucking tell me WHAT'S GOING ON?"

Uhura giggled and gasped for breath throughout her entire explanation. "Spock and I haven't been together for almost two years. We broke up before the mission even started. Oh my god, are you really this slow? You can't possibly be this slow, Iowa hick or not."

"But you—why do you keep hitting me then? What did I do?"

"You jumped him, you inconsiderate ass! You're his captain. And his best friend. Did you ever think what would happen if he hadn't felt the same way you did? About the position that would have put him in? As it is you stole his first sexual experience with a man. The first one that really counts for him! Buddha, do you honestly not see the problem with this?"

"No—I mean, yes, but two years? You've got to be fucking kidding me. He kept running to me for relationship advice!"

"Just because we're not together doesn't mean we don't have a relationship."

"But you haven't dated anyone!"

Uhura snorted. "Yes, I have."

"I would have—"

"Oh, yes, because you're clearly so observant. I was discreet, pumbavu. I'm a department head. I have to be about these things. Just like you haven't screwed around with any of the crew outside of Spock."


"'Oh'? That's it? Just 'Oh'?"

"What do you want me to say?"

Uhura only shook her head. "I don't even know why I bother."


Bones was also incredulous.

"Shit, are you serious? You thought they were together?"

"Wait, you knew? How in the hell did this never come up?"

"You only ever said that you were sure Spock would never return your feelings, not why. I thought it was the usual 'he's so perfect he'd never want at me' bullshit you always pull when you really like someone—you did it with Janice and Rashid."

"I complained about him coming to me for advice about Uhura tons of times!"

"I just thought it bugged the shit out of you that he seemed to care about their friendship more than yours."

"Well, it did. But—how could I have missed this?"

"You're too stupid to live."


So was Sulu.

"You honestly think I would have hit on Uhura in front of Spock if they were still dating? I like my balls right where they are, thanks."


Chapter End Notes:

This story was inspired by Miss Car's "Idiot Boyfriend" challenge, but it doesn't actually fill the prompt. I couldn't bring myself to write Jim as the kind of dick who would deliberately try to sabotage Spock and Uhura's relationship under the guise of giving advice. I'm not knocking the challenge; I just couldn't write it.

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