It was close to dinner time when he saw Spock - Jim was finally heading back to his quarters after a long shift. The stutter of his heartbeat – and the deep heave from his ample chest - reminded him again of this new body he was currently stuck with. Jim’s brain told him to hide, but his hand came up to hold the turbolift for Spock.
What little restraint his male self had on his illogical feelings towards his first officer crumbled upon re-materializing on the ship, as a female. Right then, the known fact was made clearer - females are more emotional beings than their male counterparts. Unfortunately for Jim, he was experiencing it firsthand. Thankfully, their schedules were such that neither had seen the other since the debriefing on the transporter malfunction yesterday. It has been a bit more than 24hours since.
Spock greeted him with a nod and Jim literally felt the surge of endorphins when their eyes met just briefly. A few seconds passed as Jim watched Spock not-so-discreetly, so he noticed the precise moment when Spock’s expression shifted ever so slightly. Before Jim could pinpoint what it was - Spock’s gaze snapped down to meet his.
“Captain,” Spock began, looking at Jim with what Jim would describe as a look of earnest worry, “am I correct to assume that you have just returned from sick bay?”
Jim blinked, trying to process a reason behind Spock’s question, it was a trying task – to think and focus while Spock was just inches away from him. Gods, this was never that bad a problem before – but before he had a testerone producing body not the estrogens that were rulling his system now. He managed a nod in response to Spock’s question when his voice suddenly failed him.
“There is a scent of fresh blood coming from your body.”
“Is Dr McCoy failing in his position as CMO? Why have you been released from sick bay if you are still unfit for duty?”
Blue eyes widened just a fraction before Jim found himself looking down at their shoes, and for some reason the closeness of their feet was the trigger to inflame his cheeks. Those larger feet shifted closer as Jim heard Spock say his name in question.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Jim prayed for the door to open sooner, but time didn’t seem to want to move on. Spock had easily brought up - the topic - that Jim had been praying and hoping for no one to ever mention, think, or dream of since that fateful visit to the bathroom that morning, then the sick bay just minutes ago.
“Uuuuhh,” Jim began but the words weren’t coming out, and Jim didn’t know if Spock realized but he was leaning down closer to Jim’s shortened height – sniffing subtly. Jim was suddenly hyper aware of the slight painful throb between his legs and the sudden surge of something thick oozing out. He could have sworn Spock heard the squelch as he shifted his legs closer together because the other’s eyebrows just shot up behind his fringe.
“Has there been a further complication due to the transporter malfunction?”
“Uuuh, more like a…” Jim began, trying to shift away from Spock inconspicuously which gained him a raised eyebrow for his attempt.
“-a complication, due to… gender.” Jim managed to say, but it came out sounding like a question rather than a statement. Jim edged another step back and Spock took a step forward, really sniffing this time and not bothering to hide that he was doing so.
“This scent of blood, Jim. It is… abnormal.”
Jim was ready to bolt right out of there, his eyes darting around the confined space like a trapped prey with his back now pressed against the turbolift doors. Spock’s was about to say something again when the doors opened up behind Jim who stumbled out and quickly backed away.
Spock looked like as though he was debating on stepping out of the lift and going after Jim, or not to. Jim didn’t wait for his decision, he high tailed back to his quarters where he inputted a double security lock on his door.
As the doors of the turbolift closed again, Spock promptly keyed in the sick bay’s location. It was time to confront Dr. McCoy
Upon learning the truth of things, after much questioning and reasoning, to which Dr. McCoy had no choice but to surrender the information. Since it was the only “logical thing to do”. Spock now stood, waiting to be granted permission – for the eighth time - to enter his Captain's quarters.
Earlier attempts had been met with silence on the Captain’s side of the door. Despite the fact that Spock could easily override or hack through the multiple security locks Jim had installed in, it would not be seemly, nor a logical thing to do. Barging into Jim’s quarters seemed all the more a crime now that Jim was female – a gender that by unspoken rule – required more privacy.
Spock was confident this time round that he would be able to gain access, he had intercepted Yeoman Rand’s routine stop-over to the Captains quarters with the delivery of reports for the day, along with dinner and a small parcel that the yeoman was reluctant to hand over. Spock assured her with his well phrased logic – or sly persuasion as Jim would put – that it would be most advantageous for her to relinquish this simple task as Spock would have to discuss a few matters with Jim at that time anyway.
And so it was with no choice and great reluctance – that had Jim keying in the numerous unlocking codes. The door slid open with a soft whoosh that echoed more loudly than usual in the palpable silence of Jim's room.
"Spock," Jim greeted his second officer as the tall Vulcan stepped into his threshold. He would be better than these ridiculous estrogens hormones that were rampaging through his body. "I apologize for my irrational behaviour earlier, I'm afraid I'm still.... adapting, to this new body I mean." Jim said, beginning on the first of a set of sentences he had prepared beforehand.
“Apologies are illogical, Jim. It is understood that it would take time to adjust to such a - peculiar change in ones physiology." Spock said, taking the seat offered opposite Jim as he placed the items down on the table. Spock pretended not to notice Jim’s panic as he quickly hid the small parcel away while he read through a report.
"Well, yes, ahem" Jim said clearing his throat, the dainty sound he made surprised him and earned a raised eyebrow which lead to the inflammation of his cheeks that seemed to be a common side effect since yesterday. Or maybe the added redness to his cheeks could be attributed to the fact that Spock had finally fallen into the habit of calling him Jim when they were off duty.
After going through a few necessary reports, Spock had asked Jim to a game of chess – since it has been a long time since their last game – and also because Spock knew that according to human customs, a certain setting should be set up when one wanted to inquire certain questions. Spock knew that Jim was comforted by their games of chess – despite the mental challenge – Jim enjoyed them greatly and so such a setting was needed to have Jim in a more accepting mood.
The game of chess carried on till it seemed like only a few final moves were left to be made, it was then, that Jim's mind distracted him with a few extra - but not necessarily unnecessary - details about his dashing first officer. Not that Jim needed a refresher's course on Spock's ... appeal. But seeing, studying – staring - at his first officer, with albeit different eyes and a different 'assessing system', only helped reaffirm his inappropriate infatuation with the Vulcan.
Dark eyes darted up from the board to stare back at blue ones, leading to that annoying unstoppable inflammation of his face, leaving Jim grappling at something to say to excuse his staring. A thought crossed his mind regarding what exactly his focus was set on that evening. The chess game at present, or the Vulcan officer present.
"So, uh... What were you up to? I mean. Were you, before you came here, y'know. At the science labs or... something...?" Just a touch of movement between those eyebrows hinted a confusion at Jim's clumsily phrased question before the genius Vulcan brain deciphered it within the second.
"I was at sickbay." Was all Spock said, followed by the soft click of the chess piece being placed down by long elegant – but strong - fingers. Jim blinked, catching onto the last word he heard as he tore his eyes from those fingers.
"Sickbay? Are you alright Spock?" Concern lighting up Jim's face even as his eyebrows knitted in a frown. Somehow, looking his first officer in the eye was more disconcerting than ogling over his fingers. Jim took a breath, and latched onto his concern over Spock being in sickbay.
"It was not a matter pertaining to my health. Jim." Chess game now forgotten since Jim was obviously more invested in the current conversation than the move he was supposed to be taking. If Jim bothered to look down, he'd have realised his King had been placed in "Check" by Spock’s Knight.
"Not your health? What... then?" the frown maintained, but his eyes reflected confusion now as Jim tried to figure out, why else Spock would be at sickbay.
Spock studied the chess board, Jim could make one move to safety, but then Spock would've made the next one which would set the game to a 'Check Mate'. Looking back at the slighter face of his Captain, Spock decided that now would be a good time to reassure his temporarily-female Captain that despite the change in gender, he – Spock – would be able to understand and still always be there for him. As a first officer of course.
"Dr. McCoy merely ascertained that my earlier concerns - were unnecessary," Spock began, answering Jim’s question while leading the direction of the conversation.
“Your concerns regarding?" Jim asked casually, still confused, but half-focusing on the chessboard again.
"My concern regarding you being fit for duty, Jim. The lingering scent of blood I detected lingering around your body, was merely the disintegration of your uterus lining." Spock began,
Jim - female – Kirk. Froze in place, chess piece in hand, hovering above the chess board.
The hybrid Vulcan had only recently been learning more about human emotions – particularly male – in the past few months that he and Jim had been conversing with each other outside of their shift. Therefore he foresaw no error in the words he had just spoken.
Just as calmly as he began, Spock continued as if he were reporting a new finding of space ion abnormalities that had led to the transporter malfunction. Jim’s change to female – is after all to Spock – simply a scientific curiosity.
"Jim, I do not comprehend as to why you had not informed me of such a matter. Menstruation is simply the monthly lunar rhythm for a regular healthy human female – a gender which you now are. I urge you to please inform me should you require anything during this period of continuous blood loss."
The chess piece Jim held fell out of his slack grip, knocking over another, both King and Queen now lay 'defeated'. The resounding echo of frosted glass over ceramic amplified in the harsh silence that had now fallen upon the room.
Blue eyes widened, as pupils constricted. After seconds of no movement from the blond before him, Spock sensed something was amiss and looked up to see a stunned expression masking Jim’s face. The same move had Jim jolting back into motion. As Spock was reaching out, Jim recoiled back too fast and tipped backward - falling.
With Vulcan superior speed, Spock reached out across the table and grabbed hold of Jim's hand, pulling him back on his feet. The skin on skin contact, however, gave 'Vulcan superior senses' a little emotional insight too.
Wide brown eyes now stared back at even wider blue eyes. Somehow, Spock hadn't found the sense to let go just yet. It was only when those blue eyes began to shimmer as the liquid build up reflected more light - and the levels of emotional output grew overwhelming - did Spock let go. He let go so suddenly, Jim teetered backward like he’d been pushed.
One step back led to another, like momentum. And before Spock could blink, Jim had dashed out of his quarters so fast, his chair still spun even as the doors whooshed shut.