Archive of Our Own

You met some real characters, working in a coffee shop. It was one of the things Jim loved most about his job. Except for when it was the thing he hated most about his job. It varied day by day.

It looked like today was going to be one of the former.

It was still too early for the real morning rush at Yorktown Coffee; that usually didn’t begin until after seven. So there was nothing to distract Jim from the man who had just walked in the door. He had that look about him of someone who had just been hit in the face with a frying pan and hadn’t quite realized it yet, but that wasn’t exactly uncommon to see this early in the morning, and it certainly wasn’t what had Jim staring.

“Uh, did I fall into a ten month coma or something?” he asked. “It’s January.”

The man wearing what looked like an impressively anatomically correct skeleton costume blinked bemusedly at him. His bleary, why-the-hell-am-I-awake look was even more pronounced from up close. It still wasn’t enough to detract from the fact that he was hot as hell.

“What?” he asked, squinting at Jim like he’d only just spotted him.

Jim felt his lips starting to twitch as his surprise wore off.

“I mean, I’m not judging or anything,” he said. “It’s certainly not the strangest thing someone’s worn into this place.”

Yeah, working at a coffee shop near a college campus basically guaranteed that you were going to be exposed to the whole gamut of bizarre fashion choices. But this guy looked too old to be a student.

“Besides,” Jim added, “you make it work for you.”

Boy, did he ever. The detailed skeleton was printed on a black bodysuit that didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination. It did, however, set Jim’s imagination going in some very interesting directions. He forced his eyes up again to find that the man was still staring at him in helpless bewilderment.

“This is the caffeine place, right?” he asked.

Jim fought back a laugh and decided to take pity on him. He was starting to wonder if the costume was the poor guy’s pajamas and he’d just rolled out of bed and stumbled here.

“It sure is,” he said. “What kind of caffeine can I get for you?”

“The strong kind.”

“You got it.”

The man produced a wallet from somewhere and fumbled through it for a moment before shoving a wad of bills at Jim and wandering off to collapse into one of the beat-up armchairs that littered the small shop. Jim watched him, lips still twitching. And then he went to count out the money in his hands so that he could make sure the man hadn’t ridiculously overpaid.

Huh. Well, Jim had no idea whether or not he’d overpaid, because he didn’t just happen to know the current exchange rate between the dollar and the Kenyan shilling.

Jim just shook his head and fished a couple of ones out of the tip jar and deposited them in the register, sticking the foreign money in the pocket of his apron to give back later. He grabbed a marker and a cup, but realized he’d forgotten to ask the man’s name. He glanced over at the chair, and the semi-conscious skeleton draped across it. He thought about calling out to him, but quite frankly he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk it. So he improvised.

“Black coffee triple espresso for…Bones?” Ben called a minute later. He shot a glance at Jim, but Jim was more concerned with the zombie in the chair.

He was pretty sure that it was some combination of the words ‘coffee’ and ‘triple espresso’ that actually did it and not the nickname, but either way the man stirred. He sat up, his dark hair even more ruffled than it had been when he walked in. He looked around, evidently nonplussed.

“Maybe I should just go ahead and bring it to him,” Jim said, taking the coffee from Ben and walking out from behind the counter.

The man had even managed to stand up by the time Jim reached him. He took the proffered cardboard cup and just held it under his nose for a moment, breathing it in. Then he finally seemed to process the name on the side of it. He blinked, but then looked down at himself and just snorted.

“Cute.”

“I try,” Jim said with a grin.

But then the door rattled open again, and he had to return to the register.

“Are you antagonizing my customers, Kirk?” Ben asked later, but the smirk on his face told Jim he wasn’t actually annoyed. Which was good, really, considering the fact that Yorktown was his coffee shop.

“Who, me?”

Ben just rolled his eyes. He was more than used to Jim’s antics. He’d certainly been exposed to them long enough, what with being married to Jim’s best friend.

“And I thought Hikaru was the one who had to put up with children all day,” he said.

“You love me.”

“Yeah, yeah, get back to work.”

Jim laughed and turned to deal with the morning rush that was finally getting underway. Busy as that kept him though, he couldn’t help but notice that “Bones” hadn’t stuck around once he’d retrieved his coffee.

Jim wasn’t disappointed. Really.

What with managing the morning rush and then a whirlwind day of classes, Jim’s intriguing customer ended up slipping his mind. It was his second semester at Enterprise Institute, and although he’d come to love the challenge and rigor, it left room for little else. The Institute was one of the most highly regarded scientific universities in the world, and it lived up to its reputation.

Jim returned to Yorktown at four, dropped his backpack under the counter with a hefty thunk, and grabbed his apron. Which was promptly snatched right back out of his hand.

“Nope,” Ben informed him, pushing him gently but insistently out from behind the counter. “It’s your first day back; you’re not spending the whole thing studying or working.”

“Ben, come on, you can’t handle the whole counter by yourself at this time of day.”

“Well first of all, that’s what you think, and second of all, I won’t be by myself. I’ll be training a new hire. His name’s Pavel. He’s a transfer student from Russia; it’s his first semester at Enterprise.”

“Well, isn’t it his first day too then?”

“No, actually. He doesn’t have class on Mondays.”

“Lucky bastard,” Jim grumbled.

“Yeah, which is why he’s working this afternoon and not you.” Ben scooped up Jim’s backpack with a grunt of effort and threaded one of the straps over Jim’s shoulder. “Go on, shoo. I just got in a copy of that new Naval history book you had your eye on. Go read it so you can give us all a riveting lecture later.”

Jim knew when he was beat, but that didn’t mean he had to be graceful in defeat.

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” he threatened as he made his retreat. “It’s gonna go on for hours. And no bathroom breaks, either!”

He turned around just in time to slam into the man who’d been trying to approach the counter. Jim, weighed down by his lethal weapon of a backpack, overbalanced and dropped like a rock. Well, he would have, if a deft pair of hands hadn’t reached out and caught him.

“Are you all right?”

“Uh.”

Oh, nice, Jim, way to show off that genius-level intellect. But seriously, what was this, supermodel day? The man - who was still holding him up, because Jim’s legs hadn’t managed to get with the program yet - looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of a winter fashion magazine. The epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, the man wore a long coat of grey wool that gathered flatteringly over his strong frame. A blue scarf wrapped around his throat, highlighting a jawline that Jim could stare at all day, and soft-looking brown hair peeked out from beneath a knit cap of the same royal blue. His intelligent brown eyes were touched with concern as he continued to wait for a response from Jim.

“Fine.” Well, at least it was an actual word. And hey, it was even one that he could make fit the situation. “I mean, I’m fine, that is.”

Jim finally pulled himself together and got his feet under him, straightening. The man kept a hold on his arms for a moment, making sure he was steady, and Jim felt a flush creep up his neck.

“I’m sorry about that, sir,” he said. He glanced behind him to see Ben just shaking his head, eyes rolling skyward. “Tell you what, your drink is on the house.”

“Thank you, but that is unnecessary.” The man finally let go of Jim, expression unruffled. “So long as I am not subject to that restriction on bathroom breaks, I assure you I am perfectly content.”

“What? Oh! No, of course not, I-” God, if Jim thought he’d been blushing before…It took him too long a moment to realize that the man had been joking, and by then it was too late. He looked away from those amused eyes. “I- have a nice day,” he blurted, and all but bolted for the back corner of the shop.

By the time he saw the man sitting in his favorite chair by the bookshelf, it was too late to turn back.

“Not a word,” he warned Sulu as he dropped into his second favorite chair with an oomph of protesting stuffing.

Naturally, Sulu ignored him.

“I haven’t seen you fail that epically since you tried to ask out Ruth Fitzgerald in ninth grade.” He wasn’t even trying to hide his wide smirk behind his coffee mug.

“Oh, save it,” Jim grumbled.

“Hey, I’ve had to put up with watching that patented Kirk charm work effortlessly more times than I can count over the years; you’ll forgive me if I get just a little bit of satisfaction out of watching you make a complete idiot of yourself.”

“You’re a true friend, Sulu.”

“Oh, I know.”

Jim just shook his head and sank further into his padded chair.

“I just- come on, no one should get to just walk around looking that goddamn attractive,” he complained. “He’s a public menace.”

The two of them watched as the guy paid for his drink and carefully grabbed a handful of napkins from the counter that held the milk and sugar and other amenities. He paused, using one of them to wipe up a smear of liquid that some careless customer had left behind.

“Hmm, yes, clearly the man is a danger to society,” Sulu remarked.

Jim decided it was time to take the high road. Or, you know, quit while he was behind.

“So, how was your first day of the semester, Professor?” he asked. He couldn’t help smiling a little as he said it. He’d known Sulu since the two of them were children, had seen how hard he’d worked for the title he’d always dreamed of.

“Let’s just say, this coffee’s Irish,” Sulu said, taking a sip from his mug. Jim laughed, and he shook his head. “Nah, it was great, actually. I still haven’t gotten over the excitement of teaching students who are actually enthusiastic about botany, and it more than makes up for the ones who are just there for the credit. You?”

“Hey, this whole higher education thing is great. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about it before.”

Sulu rolled his eyes as Jim smirked. They both knew full well that Sulu had practically begged Jim to go to college right out of high school. They’d been the two smartest students in their class, but while Sulu’s grades had reflected that, Jim’s…hadn’t. He hadn’t had the patience or the attitude for school, hadn’t been able to stomach the whispers that followed him around. Jim Kirk, son of the tragic national war hero. He hadn’t seen the point of putting in much effort when no one but Sulu could be bothered to even see him.

So while Sulu had been in college and then in grad school, Jim had been drifting, working odd jobs here and there, as a motorcycle mechanic, a bartender, a phone sex operator. But then when Sulu had been applying for a position as a biology professor at Enterprise, he’d dragged Jim along with him for the on-campus interview. He always claimed it was because Ben had been out of town and he hadn’t wanted to go alone, but Jim knew when he was being manipulated.

Still, it had worked. Jim had always been a nerd at heart, and walking through the halls of the Institute, where the very air seemed to be laden with the promise of knowledge and discovery, had struck at something deep within him. It had sparked a yearning that wouldn’t be ignored, and he’d stopped by the admissions office that same day, inquiring about an application of his own.

His raw smarts, his charm, and his tragic backstory had landed him not only an offer of admission, but a hefty scholarship as well. The only thing that wasn’t covered was housing, but Sulu had taken care of that, inviting Jim to live with him and his family in the apartment over the coffee shop that Ben would be opening. Sulu tried to sell it as a favor to him and Ben, an extra pair of hands to help out with the shop and Demora, but Jim knew that his friend just wanted to keep an eye on him, to make sure that he didn’t slip back into old patterns.

But he needn’t have worried, as it turned out. College turned out to be nothing like high school, and for the first time, Jim applied himself to his studies with a passion. The results had been remarkable, to say the least. Even the professors who didn’t like Jim because of his attitude grudgingly admitted that he was the most gifted student they’d seen in years. It hadn’t taken Jim long to settle into a major in astrophysics. He’d always been fascinated by the stars, by the world outside of his own.

It hadn’t all been starshine and roses, of course. Jim was a good ten years older than most of his classmates, and he often felt an unsurpassable chasm gaping between him and the rest of them. It was odd, really. He didn’t feel like he’d changed all that much, but damn if he couldn’t figure out how to blend in with college students anymore. And when he realized he wasn’t attracted to any of his fellow students, he really began to appreciate the fact that he’d gotten old. It wasn’t that he didn’t find them attractive, because he did and they were. But the interest wasn’t there anymore, not now that he’d - rather grudgingly and almost without noticing - grown up.

But the fashion model Jim had crashed into was too old to be a student, and Jim…noticed. The man was the picture of casual serenity as he waited for his drink, hands tucked in his pockets. There was a certain gracefulness about him, even in stillness, and it added something almost ethereal to his presence.

He looked up when Ben called out the name Spock. It was such an odd moniker but Jim thought its otherworldliness suited him, somehow. He watched as Spock moved to the counter and accepted a to-go cup with a nod of thanks, before striding to the door and vanishing into the blustery world beyond. Jim had never been so grateful that Yorktown had plate glass windows, and he leaned in his seat to track the receding figure as long as he could.

He blinked as something white waved in front of his face. He took the napkin that Sulu was holding out to him.

“What’s this for?”

“Wiping the drool off your face.”

“I am not drooling,” Jim protested.

Still, he wiped his sleeve surreptitiously over his mouth. Just, you know, in case.

“Shut up,” he added when Sulu started to shake with silent laughter.

Jim’s second day of classes was even busier than the first. But it was the kind of busyness he thrived on, the stimulating rigor of his demanding academics followed by the entirely different challenge of handling the afternoon rush of students and townies at Yorktown. It was a balancing act that it had taken him a little while to get the hang of during his first semester, but that he had finally mastered.

The afternoon rush had died down though when he looked up to see his next customer approaching. The recognition that flooded through him probably shouldn’t have been so instant, nor the smile so quick to tug at his lips in response.

“Bones!” he greeted cheerfully, despite the fact that there was no skeleton costume in sight this time.

The guy stared at him for a beat or two before recognition apparently dawned and he grimaced, ducking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. The light flush that stained his cheeks suited him, Jim couldn’t help noticing.

“I’m not usually that dense,” he said, giving Jim a rueful look.

“Are you two acquainted, Leonard?”

Jim had been so distracted by the sight of Bones that he hadn’t even noticed who’d walked in behind him. It was his turn to flush.

What had he done to deserve getting tag-teamed by the two hottest customers Yorktown Coffee had ever seen?

“Oh, yeah,” Leonard - nope, God, if Leonard was his real name then Jim was just going to stick with calling him Bones - said, waving a hand. He squinted at the name tag on Jim’s apron. “Jim here had the misfortune of meeting me before my first coffee of the morning yesterday.”

“An experience that only the strong of heart and mind could survive,” Spock said, tone and expression serious but eyes…sparkling, somehow.

“I’m sure I made the usual ass out of myself,” Bones agreed. “Honestly it’s a bit of a blur.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I made an ass out of myself with Spock here later that day,” Jim told him bracingly.

“That right?” Bones offered Jim a wry grin that softened his features. “He tends to have that effect on people.”

Spock just gave his companion a look of exasperated tolerance.

“Anyway.” Jim fished around in the pocket of his apron. “Thought you might want this back.”

He held out the wad of Kenyan money. Bones took it, shaking his head.

“Christ, did I really try to pay you with this?” he asked.

“‘Fraid so.”

Bones shot a look at the man beside him.

“This is your fault,” he said reproachfully. “I told you we should’ve left a day earlier. You know I’m useless when I’m jetlagged.”

Spock seemed unbothered by the accusation.

“We stayed the extra day because the children invited us to their play and you said, and I quote, it would be lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut to disappoint them.”

Bones huffed and turned back to Jim, who was trying not to stare. He’d realized that they had to be friends, but the way they were talking…they were drifting closer and closer to the ‘couple’ category in Jim’s head.

“How much do I owe you from yesterday?” Bones asked, pulling out his wallet.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Jim said. “Technically, you did pay. How about we call it even if you tell me why you were wearing a skeleton costume at five thirty in the morning?”

“Oh, that.” Bones rolled his eyes. “I teach a few biology and biochem classes at Enterprise. First day of every semester, I wear that getup so the kids who’ve never had me before get over their pant-wetting terror from the rumors they’ve heard-”

“Rumors that you do nothing to discourage,” Spock interjected.

“-and, you know, so they all have one fond memory to look back on when they’re dying during finals week and cursing the very air I breathe.”

Jim laughed.

“So you two are professors?” he asked.

“Until they kick us out or we come to our senses.”

“You missed it,” Spock said to Bones.

“That’s because I’m a glutton for punishment, apparently. Why else would I spend so much time around you?”

“Perhaps because the part of you that has good taste is not buried quite as deeply as I often fear.”

Jim found himself grinning as he watched the two of them start to bicker good-naturedly. It was something he thought he could’ve watched all day, but a couple of new customers had come in and he couldn’t hold up the register.

“So what do you drink when you’re actually coherent enough to order for yourself?” he asked Bones between gibes.

“Oh. Black coffee is fine for me, I’ll fix it how I like it. And a green tea for the snob over here who thinks coffee is for the unenlightened.”

He jerked a thumb towards Spock, who lifted his shoulders in a delicate shrug. Jim rang them up and passed their orders along to Ben, who gave him an amused grin. The two men actually stayed in the shop this time, settling at a table in the quietest corner, near the bookshelf and fireplace. Spock pulled a thick file of papers out of the messenger bag that had been slung over his shoulder and spread them out on the table, while Bones produced a couple of pens from somewhere. They began to pore over the papers together, making notes and exchanging the occasional comment.

Customers usually had to come pick up their beverages when they were ready, but Jim scooped theirs up before Ben could call out to them. He carried them over to the corner table and set them down before their respective recipients.

“Did you want cream or sugar or anything?” he asked Bones.

“I’m all right, thanks,” Bones said, offering Jim a sly grin. “When I said I’d fix it, I didn’t mean with anything you carry here.”

He withdrew a small flask from his pocket and upended it into his mug while Spock just eyed him with the mild disapproval of one who had long since given up protesting. Jim felt himself returning Bones’ grin - he liked the man’s style. Still, he had to shake his head when Bones held the flask up to him.

“My boss is tolerant, but he’s not that tolerant,” he said. “Besides, it looks like you two have got enough work here to keep you busy for a while. I wouldn’t want you to not have enough booze for your second coffee.”

Bones looked down at the mess of paper on the table, and snorted.

“I’m thinking this is gonna be a three or four coffee undertaking,” he said. “We’re working on writing up our research, but there’s a hell of a lot to sort through.”

“What kind of research?” Jim asked, tilting his head to read the notes scribbled on one of the pages.

“Neuroregeneration,” said Spock. “I am a neuroscientist, and Leonard’s biochemical and medical background has allowed us to collaborate quite effectively. We have been pursuing safe means of stimulating regeneration of neural tissue following traumatic injury or degenerative disease.”

Jim felt his eyebrows go up.

“I’m impressed,” he admitted honestly.

“Ah, it sounds fancier than it is,” Bones dismissed. “Really it’s just a lot of late nights in the lab spent talking to ourselves and wondering why the hell the things we thought would work didn’t, and why the things we thought wouldn’t work did. Giving ourselves eyestrain by squinting at microscope images all day, pestering the bureaucratic powers that be for money, training new students because the old ones keep up and graduating on us just when we’ve got them properly housebroken. And, you know, this.” He waved a hand in an expansive gesture that encompassed Spock, himself, and the array of papers spread out before them. “Whole lot of this.”

“It is a wonder, Leonard, that new students continue coming to us at all,” Spock said, taking a delicate sip of his tea.

“What can I say? It’s my winning personality. It’s irresistible.”

“There is an impressive multitude of adjectives that can appropriately be ascribed to your personality, but it would be highly erroneous to include ‘winning’ and ‘irresistible’ among them.”

“Bite me.”

“I believe you have just supported my point.”

It looked like they could be at it a while, so Jim just beat a quiet retreat, grinning as he went.

“Hey, Sulu,” Jim said, sticking his head into his friend’s office later that evening. “You know most of the other professors in the Biology Department, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just wondering if you knew a Dr….uh, a Dr. Leonard.”

Sulu frowned.

“I don’t think-”

“It’s his first name, not his last. He does collaborative research on neuroregeneration.”

“Oh!” Sulu’s expression cleared. “That’s Dr. McCoy. I’ve only met him a couple times, but he’s something of a legend in the department. He was on the committee that interviewed me when I was applying for my job.” He grimaced slightly at the memory. “He was terrifying.”

Looking back on his encounters with the man, Jim supposed he could see how that would be the case. Of course, it was hard to be terrified of someone when your first exposure to them came when they were dressed like a skeleton and barely conscious.

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh, he and Dr. Spock came into the shop again today, and let’s just say it was an interesting encounter.”

“This would be the Spock that you were terrorizing the other morning?” Sulu asked, his eyes dancing.

Jim suddenly regretted starting this conversation.

“I was just wondering why I hadn’t seen them around before, is all,” he said with as much dignity as he could manage.

“Oh, they were abroad last semester, mostly in Africa, I think. They were collaborating with another group of scientists out there doing similar work.”

So. It had been a research trip. Maybe Jim’s very first assessment had been correct then, and the two of them weren’t together. He thought about asking Sulu if he knew, but he quickly decided against it. His pride had taken enough hits for the evening, thank you very much.

Bones and Spock rapidly became Jim’s two favorite customers. They always smiled at Jim, tipped well, stopped to chat when he wasn’t slammed. Bones would complain about his students sometimes, but in a way that did absolutely nothing to mask how much he actually cared about them. He had one small class with only four students in it, and he would bring them to Yorktown sometimes when he didn’t need visual aids for the material. Spock was more rigidly professional, but he would bring some of the student researchers from his and Bones’ lab to the shop on the occasional afternoon to go over any relevant updates and just get away from campus for a while.

But Jim’s favorite times were when it was just the two of them, when they could linger at the register for a few minutes before retreating to the corner table that had become theirs. They would camp out there for hours on end, papers spread out between them or laptops open. Jim could always tell when they were grading as opposed to working on their own projects, because Bones would start alternating between laughing forbiddingly and banging his head repeatedly into the palm of his hand, and Spock would get this pained look, take a deep breath, and proceed to write a veritable essay on the paper of whatever poor sucker had so miserably failed to meet his standards.

Whether they were each quietly absorbed in their own task, or bickering over some shared project, Spock and Bones had a comfortable familiarity, an easy connection. But after several weeks of watching more carefully than he’d like to admit, Jim was forced to conclude that his very first impression of the two of them had been right, and that they were nothing more than good friends whose jobs required them to spend a great deal of time together. Jim had been working at a coffee shop long enough to be able to spot the couples, and Bones and Spock displayed none of the classic signs. There was no holding of hands, no soulful or flirtatious looks, no jealous spats or chairs pulled out courteously for one another. Close as they seemed to be, that was it.

Not that it, you know, mattered. But still. It was good to know.

Jim was balanced precariously on a ladder, his back to the shop, when he heard the familiar rattling chime of the door opening on the morning of February 14th. He ignored it for the time being, focusing on putting the finishing touches on the daily fun fact that always added a bit of personality and color to the specials board.

Did you know: legend has it that in ancient and medieval times, lovers would be chosen by lottery. Young men and women would draw a name from a bowl, and wear that name on their sleeve for the following week. This is thought to be a possible origin for the phrase ‘to wear your heart on your sleeve’. Just goes to show, folks; if you think love makes no sense now, you should’ve seen it back when people were so baffled by it, they left it to random chance.

Well, no one could accuse Jim of not getting into the Valentine’s Day spirit. He surveyed his work with smug satisfaction. He couldn’t wait to see how many guys walked in here, realized what day it was, and ran back out in varying degrees of panic. Granted, he only knew what day it was because he’d found Sulu in the kitchen that morning trying to salvage the gummy, charred remains of what was supposed to be Ben’s romantic breakfast in bed.

“Fascinating.” Jim almost toppled off of the ladder at the unexpected voice. He’d forgotten that someone had already walked in.

He craned his neck to look at Spock, who was standing at the register with Bones at his shoulder. He grinned.

“You talking about the fun fact or the view, Spock?” he asked, striking as much of a pose as he could without undue risk of embarrassing death by ladder mishap.

Spock’s eyebrows rose in confusion, before his gaze dropped to Jim’s ass for an instant and darted right back up to his face again. He cleared his throat.

“I was referring to the historical insight,” he said, tone bordering on severe but cheeks pinking ever so slightly.

“I wouldn’t’ve been,” said Bones, smirking. Spock shot him a look.

Jim’s grin only widened. He’d been flirting with both of them since he’d decided they weren’t together, and thus far it had been thoroughly entertaining. As far as he could tell, it was the only possible means of getting the usually unflappable Spock even a little bit flustered. As for Bones, some days he would just roll his eyes and scoff, but others he would flirt back just as blatantly, letting his southern drawl thicken playfully and earning himself exasperated looks whenever Spock was there too. But he never followed up on it any more than Spock did, so Jim never took it too seriously. He’d welcome a fling with either one of them if they were game, but he got plenty out of their company as it was.

“Any of that true?” Bones asked, nodding at the chalkboard behind Jim’s head. “About the love lotto?”

“Hard to say,” Jim said, finally climbing down from the ladder and dusting the chalk from his hands. “Hell of an idea though, don’t you think?”

“It would certainly make things simpler,” Spock said, an unusual degree of feeling behind the words.

Bones glanced at him and started to laugh. It was one of his real ones, the rare and captivating sound that Jim had quickly come to enjoy more than was probably wise. Bones clapped Spock on the shoulder.

“At least your last Valentine took pity on you eventually,” he said, still grinning. “That’s gotta make up for some of the, uh, romantic misfires, right?”

“Romantic misfires?” Spock repeated with a hint of incredulity. “There is still a restraining order against me.”

“I’m pretty sure she filed that mostly as a joke,” Bones said, lips still twitching. “And it could’ve been worse. You did plant a tracking device on her, after all.”

“That was entirely unintentional, which I explained-”

“Well hell, Spock, you know what they say about a woman scorned. I did try to warn you. And she has forgiven you. She let us use the translation software she’s in the middle of patenting.”

Spock just shook his head and looked at Jim, who was staring at them both.

“I have questions,” Jim said. “Several.”

Bones grinned at him, nudging Spock with his elbow.

“All you really need to know is that Casanova over here may look like a Roman god, but it doesn’t mean he has the first clue what he’s doing when it comes to romance.”

Spock sighed faintly, but he didn’t try to deny it.

“As I said. A lottery would be far simpler.”

Jim blinked and shook himself.

“Apparently.”

While Bones and Spock usually came in together, it wasn’t rare to see just one or the other, especially in the mornings. Jim had given up trying to keep track of their schedules, because as far as he could tell, they didn’t have any.

So it was just Bones who walked into the shop on one brisk morning in March. He returned Jim’s smile with one of his own, and Jim savored the victory. Getting a smile from Bones in the morning could be like getting blood from a rock, especially when he was by himself.

“Good morning?” Jim said, both a greeting and a question.

“I’ve had worse.”

Jim eyed the man suspiciously. He knew that look.

“Oh?” He gave Bones a leering grin, waggling his eyebrows.

Bones’ smile vanished, familiar exasperation overtaking his features instead. He rolled his eyes.

“Yes, oh, and that’s all you’ll be hearing about it, so get your mind out of the gutter,” he said.

Jim raised his hands in mock surrender, cheerfully and determinedly ignoring the slight twinge in his gut. It had probably just been a one-time thing. If it had been serious, Jim would’ve seen the other party already. Coffee shops were the quintessential early date location.

Not that it mattered.

“The usual?” he asked, forcing his thoughts back to business as he began to ring Bones up.

“Yeah, unless…I don’t suppose those are vegan?” Bones asked without much hope. He was nodding at the plate of hamantaschen that Jim had added to the small baked goods display that morning, in expectation of the upcoming Purim holiday.

“You’re vegan?” Jim asked, startled. He supposed he couldn’t remember ever putting milk or cream in anything Bones had ordered, but- “You’ve never, uh, struck me as the type.”

“Nah, I grew up in the country,” Bones said with a small smile and a wave of his hand. “You’ll have to pry my bacon and eggs from my cold, dead hands. But Spock’s vegan, and it can be a little limiting for him, palate-wise. Not that he minds, but it pains me to see him eating the same rabbit food every day. I mean, I’m a huge proponent of salads, don’t get me wrong, but there’s a limit. He’s Jewish too, and finding vegan versions of some of the traditional foods is a chore and a half.”

“He doesn’t keep Kosher, does he?” Jim asked. “I could’ve made arrangements-”

“No, don’t worry about that,” Bones said. “Spock values the faith and traditions, but he’s not orthodox.”

“Well, if he has any other kind of restrictions or anything, let me know, all right? I can always figure something out.”

“I will, Jim.” The smile that Bones gave him was warm and genuine. “Thank you.”

The cookies that Jim had ordered weren’t vegan, and when he called the bakery that afternoon he found out that they didn’t have a vegan option for them either.

Jim could have let it go at that. Then again, maybe he couldn’t.

His grandmother spent a solid thirty seconds cackling into the phone when he called her that evening and told her about his mission.

“Jim, love, I know we both tried our best, but if there’s such a thing as a black thumb when it comes to baking, you’ve got two of them,” she said when she’d gotten enough air to speak. “What on earth makes you think it’s a good idea to try making it even harder?”

“It just…seemed like the thing to do,” Jim said evasively.

Skeptical silence echoed across the line.

“James, is this about a young man?” Jim looked skyward and sighed. “It is, isn’t it! Tell me all about him.”

“Bubbe, I don’t have a young man,” Jim said patiently. “He’s just a regular at the coffee shop, and he’s always kind to me, and I wanted to do something nice for him.”

“That’s how it starts, Jim,” his grandmother warned him. “Your Zayde Tiberius walked me to the bus stop after meeting me at work one day, and that was all it took to get the ball rolling.”

“There is no ball,” Jim insisted, rubbing a hand over his face. “Now, will you help me or not?”

Jim fell asleep at the dining room table later that night with his face pressed to the pages of his relativistic physics textbook. He woke to the gentle but insistent prodding of a small finger against his cheek.

“Uncle Jim?”

Jim blinked bleary eyes open and squinted at Demora. She was standing beside his chair with a rather beat-up stuffed tiger clutched to her chest, peering at him intently. He smiled at her. It was past her bedtime, but he’d never been the tattling sort. He took tremendous pride in being the cool godfather.

“What is it, Dem?” he asked, clearing the sleep from his voice. “You have a bad dream?”

Demora shook her head solemnly, her dark hair swishing back and forth.

“Did you set the kitchen on fire?” she asked.

“Uh, no?” And then Jim remembered what he’d been doing before he’d started studying.

He let out a word that didn’t start out as ‘fudgesicles’ but ended up close enough for government work, and scrambled for the doorway to the kitchen, Demora at his heels. He crouched in front of the oven that was the source of the faint haze of smoke lingering in the air, extending an arm to keep Demora back as he gingerly opened the door. The two of them peered inside.

“Are they supposed to look like that?” Demora asked skeptically.

“Uh, sort of. Just, you know, not quite so…blobby and charred.”

Jim grabbed an oven mitt from the counter and carefully extracted the tray of burned lumps that had once been an attempt at hamantaschen. At least they hadn’t set off the smoke alarms. He didn’t think Sulu and Ben would’ve appreciated that.

“You’re not very good at this,” Demora observed.

“Thanks, Dem.” The kid wasn’t wrong.

“Payton’s mom is super good at baking though,” Demora went on earnestly. “She gives me and Payton lessons when I have playdates at their house. I could help you.”

“The thing is, sweetheart, these were a special kind of cookies. They can only have certain ingredients in them.”

“What kind of ingredients?” Demora asked, giving him a suspicious look.

“Only stuff that doesn’t come from animals. No milk, no eggs, no butter…stuff like that.”

“Oh.” Demora brightened. “Vegan cookies! Payton’s mom says that’s healthier anyway. She says there’s ways to make them still taste good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. She didn’t say anything about setting them on fire, though.”

Jim laughed.

“Yeah, let’s skip that step next time.”

Jim cast an appraising look at his goddaughter. He glanced at the doorway, and the hallway beyond. He was probably going to end up on dishwashing duty for a month if Ben and Sulu found out about this, but what the hell. It wasn’t a school night.

He knelt to Demora’s level and leaned in conspiratorially.

“What do you say, Dem? Wanna help make sure your Uncle Jim doesn’t burn the house down?”

It took a few tries, but between the two of them, they actually managed to end up with some pretty decent cookies. And Jim did end up on dishwashing duty for a month, but he was pretty sure he’d also started a weekend tradition in the Sulu household, so he’d take the hit.

As he’d been hoping, Bones and Spock came in that day, later in the morning than they usually did on weekdays. Bones still looked like he would rather be in bed. There was something thoroughly endearing about that look on his face, but Jim was pretty sure he wouldn’t survive telling him so.

He fixed them their regular coffee and tea without bothering to ask. But when he passed the drinks across the counter, this time he included a large plate of triangular cookies, covered loosely in plastic wrap.

“Chag Purim sameach, Spock,” he said. “No charge.”

Spock looked down at the hamantaschen in obvious surprise, and then up at Jim.

“You made these.”

“A little birdy told me you were vegan,” Jim explained. “So those are too. They’re even edible, I think.”

Bones snorted.

“‘Vegan’ and ‘edible’ are antonyms, if you ask me,” he said. But he was smiling, and there was real appreciation in his eyes as he nodded at Jim.

“No one did,” Spock told Bones, but the retort was delivered absently, almost as a reflex.

He reached out, pulling the plate of hamantaschen across the counter with those long fingers that Jim definitely hadn’t spent any time staring at.

“Toda raba, Jim,” Spock said, in that serious way of his that left you with no doubt of his sincerity.

Something warm flooded Jim’s chest, and he felt his face heating too.

And if Jim started ordering more vegan baked goods after that, well, it wasn’t as if Spock was their only vegan customer. And if he took great personal pride and satisfaction in the fact that Spock started to order the occasional pastry with his tea, then that was his business.

You might think, with as much time as Jim spent at Yorktown, that he would want to escape it whenever he could. But truthfully, he loved the place, loved the atmosphere. He liked to study there sometimes when there were tables free, spreading his work out and slipping into a zone of focus that Sulu had told him more than once made him look like a man possessed.

But even in that zone, he didn’t fail to notice the sight of Bones approaching, coffee in hand.

“Not used to seeing you on this side of the counter,” Bones said, dropping into the chair across from Jim.

“Sorry you can’t boss me around when I’m off duty?” Jim asked with a smirk.

“Sorry I had to actually remember what my coffee order is.”

Jim laughed and glanced over to the register, rolling his eyes as he watched Chekov flirting with a couple of his fellow students. What the kid lacked in skill, he made up for with enthusiasm.

“I’ll make sure Pavel memorizes it for next time,” he said.

“Nah, I wouldn’t want my brain to atrophy.”

“That, and you don’t want Spock to accuse you of being lazy.”

“Potato, potato.” Bones hid his smirk behind his mug and nodded at Jim’s laptop. “What’re you working on?”

“Lab report for my astronomy class.”

Jim jumped slightly as Bones began to choke on his coffee. He stood, uncertain as to whether or not he should thump the gasping man on the back, but then Bones just lifted his head to stare at him, and his eyes were watering but he no longer appeared to be in danger of asphyxiating.

“But you- you’re not a student?” he wheezed. “An Enterprise student?”

Jim frowned a little, not quite sure what to make of Bones’ reaction.

“Well, yeah,” he said slowly, sitting back down. “I mean, I certainly hope so. I’m gonna be a little put out if I’ve been going to classes for almost a year for no reason.”

Bones seemed to reel back slightly. He coughed a few more times and slumped in his chair.

“Christ, I thought you kids were supposed to look younger every year,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“Hey, watch who you’re calling a kid. I’m 29. It just…uh. Took me a little longer than most to get my shit together and figure out what I wanted and how to go about getting it.”

Bones was staring at him. He leaned forward, squinting, as if he could puzzle Jim out if he looked hard enough.

“But you’re always here!”

“No, I’m here all the same times you are,” Jim laughed. “Before and after classes.”

“Huh.” Bones sat back in his seat again, still looking vaguely stunned. “I had no idea. I’m sorry, Jim.”

“Don’t be, it’s not like I said anything about it,” Jim dismissed.

“No, but- you’re sure you’re 29?”

“Last I checked.”

Jim wasn’t entirely sure why Bones was being so strange about this. Unless…could it be that he’d been taking Jim’s flirting more seriously over the past few months than he’d realized? The idea did strange things to his insides.

“Spock!”

Jim jumped as Bones called out over his shoulder. He turned in time to see Spock veering towards them.

“Did you know Jim is an Enterprise student?” Bones demanded.

“Did you not?” Spock asked, evidently surprised.

“No! Why would I have known that? Why do you know that?”

“I am observant, Leonard.”

“Are you saying I’m not?”

Jim relaxed slightly as the two of them began their usual bickering. Bones seemed to have gotten over whatever it was that had been bothering him, and Spock had already known and didn’t care. He went to the counter to get Spock’s usual tea, and when he returned, Bones kicked out his chair for him without even pausing for breath, so that was apparently that.

Nothing really changed after that, except that Bones began to ask Jim about his classes when he stopped at the register to chat. And when finals rolled around, faster than Jim would have believed possible, he showed up one day and deposited a blue lunchbox printed with the Enterprise Institute logo on the counter in front of Jim.

“Finals survival kit,” he announced before Jim could even ask. “I make them for all of Spock’s and my lab students, and I figured you could use one too.”

Jim peered inside. Bones had managed to cram quite a lot into the small bag, everything from extra pens and pencils to an assortment of granola bars to sugar-free gum to batteries of the size that fit most scientific calculators. There was even a travel-size tube of Ibuprofen.

“Thanks, Bones,” said Jim, oddly touched. He glanced down at the lunchbox again, and grinned. “Just couldn’t bring yourself to give out junk food, could you?”

“It’s called a survival kit, not a death kit,” Bones said, unabashed. “And I don’t want to see you mainlining caffeine either.”

“Don’t you think that’s a tad hypocritical?” Jim asked, eyebrows raised.

“Ask me if I care, Jim. In fact, add an extra shot of espresso to today’s coffee.”

Jim just shook his head as he went to comply. Truth be told, it was actually something of a thrill to be on the receiving end of Bones’ mother-henning. It was the somewhat miraculous proof that Bones actually cared about him. And if he had to start hiding his coffee and energy drinks when Bones was around, so be it.

Against all odds and despite the best efforts of some of his professors, Jim survived finals. The day after they ended, Yorktown was mostly deserted. The majority of Enterprise’s students had gone home for the summer, reveling in their freedom after a grueling few weeks. But Bones and Spock were there bright and early.

Well, they were there early. Jim didn’t think anyone in their right mind would use Bones’ name in the same sentence as the word bright just then. He was wearing the expression of the recently damned.

“I suppose it’s nice to know that there is still some justice in this world,” Jim said lightly as he brought the usual tea and coffee to the corner table, finding it piled high with exams and lab reports and final projects, all waiting to be graded. Even Spock was eyeing the masses of papers with some trepidation.

“Don’t you dare enjoy this,” Bones growled, uncapping a red pen with a savage twist and throwing the cap in Jim’s direction.

Jim just dodged out of the way, laughing. He did give them both free refills for the rest of the day though.

Turned out, Bones and Spock had another research trip scheduled for the summer break. Yorktown felt strangely empty without them, which was odd, considering how reserved they always were when they were there.

Not that Jim spent all his days whiling away time at the shop. He’d managed to get a summer research position with Professor Scott, who was an Enterprise legend. As quirky as he was brilliant, Scotty, as he insisted his students call him, managed to make each day an adventure. Jim was kept as busy as he was during the regular semester, and he thrived on it.

But still. It wasn’t the same.

Sulu found him curled up in his favorite armchair one weekend, reading by the empty fireplace with a green tea in hand. When Jim told his friend what he was reading, Sulu started to smirk.

“You’re pining.”

Jim glared at him. Granted, he probably should’ve known better than to admit that he’d looked up the research articles that Bones and Spock had written together.

“I’m doing nothing of the sort,” he said. “I’m merely broadening my scientific horizons.”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Sulu told him, smirk widening. “It’s perfectly natural to miss your boyfriends when they’re gone. It’s healthy, even.”

“You know, you were a lot less smug before you entered your irritatingly perfect marital bliss.”

Still, Sulu was right. Jim did miss his friends, for that was what they had become. He was self-aware enough to realize that he’d developed crushes on both of them, but it went beyond that. He’d come to truly care for both of them, treasuring the moments he got to spend with them. It was why he’d turned to their writing, seeking out a connection to them in their absence.

“I entered my irritatingly perfect marital bliss because Ben and I were actually capable of admitting our feelings to one another.”

“Don’t you have to go water some plants, or something?”

It was a lazy August afternoon when Jim caught sight of movement outside the glass windows of the shop. He looked up, heart jumping in his chest when he recognized the two figures approaching. A wide smile stretched across his face as Spock pulled the door open and held it for Bones.

Jim blinked as they drew closer to the counter. Tried not to stare. Failed.

“Miss us, kid?” Bones asked with a grin.

“You have freckles,” Jim said dumbly. Not just that; all of his skin had grown more tan, giving him a healthy bronze…well, it could only be described as a glow.

Bones scowled and rubbed at his nose, as if the little brown spots would come off like dirt.

“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled. “Practically bathed in sunscreen every day, but did it make a difference? No, because that would be too easy. Probably gonna get skin cancer-”

“They’re adorable.”

Bones blinked, speckled cheeks going red as he flushed.

“He is not wrong, Leonard,” Spock said, tone dry but corners of his mouth twitching.

Bones just glared at them both for a moment, before lifting his chin and stalking off to sit at the usual table, grumbling as he went.

“And you.” Jim squinted at Spock. “You look exactly the same. How the hell- did you even go outside?”

“Indeed I did. Quite regularly, in fact.” Spock lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I was raised in the desert. My complexion has always remained the same.”

“The man’s a freak of nature!” Bones called from the table, having apparently forgotten that he wasn’t speaking to either of them.

“That is, of course, another possibility,” Spock agreed, straight-faced.

Jim grinned at both of them.

“I missed you guys.”

One thing that did come out of a summer spent without much schoolwork was the chance to spend more time with Chekov, who worked more hours at Yorktown over the break. It turned out that the two of them had more in common than Jim had initially realized, including an appreciation for music. They started playing guitar together, and Jim got the chance to exercise his vocal chords somewhere other than the shower.

When Ben heard them one afternoon, he insisted that they play for the shop. Thus began the tradition of live acoustic music every Friday afternoon, courtesy of Jim and Chekov. It was always a good time, although Ben nixed some of the songs that Jim wanted to try.

“Demora comes to these things, Jim,” was all he said when asked about Moves Like Jagger.

Jim enjoyed the performances more than he would have predicted. Still, he was unaccountably nervous, the first time Bones and Spock showed up to one of them. He’d never been shy, but then again, he rarely cared about what people thought of him. But he cared, when it came to Spock and Bones. He cared a lot.

“Are you all right, Jim?” Chekov asked him after he’d managed to snap two guitar strings while they were warming up.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jim said tightly.

He was not fine. This was ridiculous. Bones and Spock weren’t even looking at him yet; they were just talking softly together over at their corner table. But Jim was still painfully aware of their presence, of the fact that they would be listening to him sing in just a few minutes.

“You are nervous.” Chekov’s tone had changed, and Jim looked up to find the kid eyeing him knowingly, a grin threatening. He was shooting meaningful glances at that damn corner table.

“Oh, don’t you start.” God, was he really that obvious?

“I have heard that it is helpful to imagine the people at the source of your anxiety in their underwear,” Chekov said, and that innocence in his tone was total bullshit, it had to be. “Although in your case, that might cause problems of a different nature-”

Jim started playing just to shut him up.

It was actually a pretty effective strategy. Because as soon as the music started to flow through the shop, the ambient chatter died down and his audience turned to listen. Jim had always known what to do with an audience, how to put on a show. It wasn’t hard to let go of his nervousness, to immerse himself in the performance like he always did. And when he finally chanced a peek over at Bones and Spock, he found them watching him with twin captivated expressions. It gave him the confidence he needed to really give it his all, unleashing the full force of the legendary Kirk charm and showmanship.

Bones and Spock never missed a Friday night after that.

“Well, that’s a look I usually only see when I assign fifteen page lab reports.”

Jim looked up from the homework he’d been frowning down at. Bones was leaning against the counter by the register, watching Jim with mild amusement.

“I’d take a thirty page lab report over…whatever the hell this is,” Jim said, straightening. He didn’t usually work on his schoolwork while he was on the job, but it had been a slow evening.

“Hey, you’re the one who decided to go to school for astrophysics. That’s on you, pal.”

“But it’s not even for any of my science classes!” Jim threw his hands in the air. “That’s the problem! I actually understand rocket science. But this…”

“What’s it for, then?” Bones leaned over the counter, craning his neck to read Jim’s paper. He frowned. “Symmetry? You’re taking an entire class about symmetry?”

“Not voluntarily, I assure you,” Jim grumbled. “I thought science academies weren’t supposed to have obscure BS gen-ed requirements.”

“Let me guess: your “integrated perspectives” requirement?”

Jim nodded, grimacing. All sophomores at Enterprise had to take an IP course, taught by two professors and designed to incorporate elements of multiple different disciplines. The goal was apparently to produce more well-rounded students, but so far it had only produced headaches, at least for Jim.

“I’m not entirely sure which perspectives I’m supposed to be integrating, but I don’t think it’s working,” he said, glaring at his homework.

“Hmm. Spock and I taught an IP together once,” Bones said, a distant smile on his face.

“Once?”

Bones just chuckled, his eyes taking on a vaguely evil glint.

“Once.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I’ve seen the program work out well for some people, but that was before I knew we were offering a course on symmetry. Of all the…what the hell do even you do in class?”

“Hell if I know.” Jim rubbed at his eyes. He’d been up late the night before working on a report for theoretical physics, and his brain felt like a wrung sponge. “Apparently I’m supposed to know though, because this homework seems to have a much higher regard for my abilities than I do.”

“Why even take the class? Surely there must have been some other IP that fit your schedule?”

“My advisor suggested it, and I foolishly thought it was actually a good idea to listen to him.”

“Who’s your advisor?”

“Professor Marcus.”

Bones’ nostrils flared.

“Like hell,” he said. “I’m not even in the damn department, but I know that man’s an ass. He doesn’t give two shits about his students. You’re going to your department chair tomorrow and asking for a new advisor.”

“Oh, I am, am I?” Jim asked, smirking a little. But Bones evidently wasn’t kidding.

“Yes, you are. This is your life, Jim, and I’m not about to let some lazy, arrogant bastard make it harder for you.”

Jim glanced around the shop.

“It’s fine, Bones,” he said quietly, not wanting his friend to get in trouble for trash-talking a colleague in front of students. “I can manage.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.”

Bones yanked out his phone and started tapping at the screen, way more adeptly than Jim would have expected from someone as old-fashioned as Bones seemed to be. Jim just watched him in bemusement, until a moment later-

“There.” Bones put his phone away. “You’ve been assigned to Professor Scott. Or you will be whenever Dr. Archer checks his email next, if he knows what’s good for him.”

Jim blinked, staring at the older man. He’d tried to request Scotty multiple times, but had always been told that his favorite professor was already at capacity for advisees.

“You can just do that?” he asked uncertainly. “I don’t want to overload Scotty-”

Bones waved a dismissive hand.

“Ah, he’ll be thrilled,” he said. “It’s Archer who sets the cap on his advisees, not him. Scotty would take on the entire major if they let him; he’s just one of those professors.”

Jim smiled, chest warm.

“And you’re another,” he said, holding Bones’ gaze. “Thank you, Dr. McCoy.”

Bones flushed slightly and looked away after a moment that lasted just an instant longer than it probably should have. He cleared his throat, grumbling something under his breath that included what sounded suspiciously like ‘be the death of me.’

“All right then,” he said, leaning over the counter to pull Jim’s homework towards him. “I’m sure that between the two of us, we can figure out a little symmetry.”

“I have two doctorates,” Bones whispered fifteen minutes later, more to himself than to Jim. He was staring down at the paper like it had personally insulted his mother. “Why is this so goddamn hard?”

As for Jim, he was just trying his best not to stare at Bones. The man had a habit of biting his lip and running his hands through his hair when frustrated, and Jim found himself caring a lot less about his impossible homework as he watched.

The bell over the door tinkled happily. Jim looked up automatically to find Spock watching the two of them. And damn if he wasn’t a vision too, cheeks flushed and hair tousled from the brisk wind outside. Jim smiled at him, but Bones barely glanced up.

“You, get over here,” he ordered, crooking a finger at Spock. “You’re good at nonsense like this.”

Spock arched an eyebrow.

“Why, thank you, Leonard,” he said, dry as a desert wind. But he was already on his way over.

Spock, naturally, had it figured out in less time than it took Jim to make him and Bones the coffee and tea they actually came to the shop for.

Jim never had much reason to spend time in the main biology building on campus, but on Sulu’s birthday, he tracked down his friend’s office so that he could drag him out for lunch. On his way there, he spotted a flyer advertising one of the seminars hosted regularly by the Biology Department. The names of the presenters were familiar.

“Were you ever gonna tell me about this?” Jim asked the next time he saw Spock, waving a copy of the flyer.

The Immunity Syndrome: The Future of Neuroregeneration, it read.

“Leonard and I did not want you to feel obligated to attend,” Spock said. “There will be no astrophysics involved.”

“I’m not a science snob, Spock,” Jim said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be there.”

And he was. He was startled when he was only barely able to find a seat in the front row. Normally, lectures like these were riddled with empty seats, especially in the forward rows. But Bones and Spock must have had an even bigger reputation than Jim had realized, because the seminar was packed. And when it began, Jim realized why.

He’d read their work, of course. He’d known they were brilliant, and highly capable. But it was different, seeing them in their element like this. The passion they both brought to their work was impossible to miss, and it gave a spark to their presentation that made it captivating as well as fascinating. Bones and Spock also played flawlessly off of each other, complementing each other so well they might have been working together their entire lives. Bones kept things light, engaging the audience and making sure they always understood what was happening. Spock handled the technical explanations, keeping them precise and informative without growing long-winded.

The presentation flowed between them effortlessly as they told the story of years of promising research, painted a picture of the future it and its kind could help create. It was a privilege to watch, and Jim was almost disappointed when it was over. He’d learned more from them in 55 minutes than he had in an entire year of high school biology. He joined his neighbors in applauding hard, grinning and putting both thumbs up when Bones caught his eye.

“Are there any questions?” Spock asked once the noise had died down.

Jim raised his hand.

“Is it too late to switch majors?”

He was kidding, of course, but the smile it earned him from Bones, the amused and gratified gleam in Spock’s eyes, were worth the indignant spluttering from Scotty several rows back.

If Jim had thought that manning the counter at a coffee shop lacked glamour, it was nothing compared to cleaning the bathroom of a coffee shop. Still, it had to be done, and Jim’s turn had come around again. Just as he was finishing up though, he heard the sound of a voice raised in anger outside. He dropped the bottle of spray cleaner and roll of paper towels into his bucket and headed for the door.

“-want a refund,” someone was saying to Ben. “Didn’t realize my coffee was being made by a-” The next word out of his mouth had Jim seeing red, and he let the bathroom door slam closed behind him as he strode out into the shop.

But he needn’t have rushed. Spock was already at the counter, looming over an Enterprise student that Jim recognized by face. The kid was an ass, frequently demanding that his drinks be remade, and never leaving a tip or cleaning up after himself. And, apparently, ragingly homophobic.

As it turned out, he was also a coward. He turned to flee the moment he saw Spock, evidently recognizing him from the Institute and unwilling to pick that particular fight. But his escape attempt was brought to an abrupt end when he found Bones blocking the door, arms crossed and expression deadly.

It was almost like a scene from a horror movie. Jim could practically visualize it slowed down, with a cheesily dramatic score crescendoing in the background. He might even have felt sorry for the kid, had he not more than deserved every bit of what was happening to him.

“You have a problem with gay men, Mr. Bele?” Bones asked, and even Jim got chills from the ice in his deceptively calm tone.

The thing was, the kid still seemed to think he had a snowball’s chance.

“Well, I just- I mean, it’s not natural, sir, and I don’t think I should have to accept things from them if it makes me uncomfortable…” his voice trailed off into a a broken squeak as Bones took a single, slow step forward. Jim would’ve lost his voice too, if he’d had that expression leveled at him.

“So I assume, then, that you wouldn’t be comfortable accepting a passing grade from a gay man, either?”

Bele’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly as the implications of that one sunk in.

“But I don’t- I mean- you’re not-?”

“Mhm.” Bones crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, bisexual, as it happens, but I don’t suppose that makes a difference to you, does it?”

Even now, Bele didn’t seem to realize how screwed he was. He puffed himself up, lip curling slightly.

“Well, don’t you worry,” Bones said without waiting for an answer, and his smile was terrifying. “I’ll see to it that you don’t have to. In fact, don’t bother showing up for any more of my classes at all. Wouldn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.”

“But- you can’t just-”

“I think you’ll find that I can, actually.” Bones finally stepped aside. “Get out of here, Bele. I’d advise you to spend a little more time thinking about your own behavior and what it says about you, and a little less about anyone else’s.”

Bele tried to scowl fiercely at him, but it wasn’t long before he quailed under Bones’ glare of icy contempt. Shoulders hunched, he muttered something unintelligible and ducked around Bones to leave.

Jim had been frozen, watching the spectacle unfold, but as the door rattled shut behind Bele, he hurried to the counter.

“You all right?” he checked with Ben. His friend waved him off.

“You know I’ve had worse than that,” he dismissed.

It was true, unfortunately. And Ben had always known how to take care of himself, but he was a quiet guy and did hate making a scene, especially in his own shop.

“You won’t get into any trouble for that, will you?” he asked as Bones joined Jim and Spock at the counter. “Failing him for something personal?”

“Oh, please,” Bones snorted. “That boy overslept the day God was handing out brains; he was never going to pass my course. But Enterprise has a strict no-tolerance policy for shit like that, and he won’t be part of its student body much longer, if I have anything to say about it.”

Judging by his expression, he would definitely have something to say about it.

Much as Jim loved being a student, he wasn’t above the thrill of excitement that came from having professors cancel class because of inclement weather. It was enough to keep a smile on his face even as he was remaking a girl’s ridiculously complicated order for the third time.

“Hey,” he called to Ben once the customer was finally satisfied. “Would it be all right if I worked an extra shift today?”

Ben frowned at him. It wasn’t the first time Jim had made such a request in recent months.

“Well, of course, but-” He paused, studying Jim intently. “Jim, is there- I mean, you know I’d start paying you an actual wage in a heartbeat, if you’d let me. If you need more money-”

“No, it’s not like that,” Jim said at once. “No, Ben, you and Hikaru do too much for me already, and what I make off of tips is just fine, you know I’ve got a scholarship.”

Ben peered at Jim for another moment before relaxing, apparently satisfied.

“So what is it, then?” he asked. “I mean, you’ve never been a slouch, but I swear it’s like you want to spend all of your free time here.”

Jim rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling his face heat. Ben’s eyebrow rose, a smile tugging at his lips.

“You do want to spend all of your free time here,” he realized. “Because it’s not a what, it’s a who. Two whos, unless I’m very much mistaken.”

“You sounded absolutely ridiculous just now, and I want you to know that.”

But Ben would not be deterred.

“I’m not the one who’s being ridiculous,” he said, his smile widening. “You voluntarily give up time off so that you have a higher chance of getting to stand around staring at the men you have ginormous crushes on instead of just asking one of them out.”

“What’s that?” Jim asked, cupping a hand to his ear. “The trashcan needs emptied? Wow, you are so right; I’ll get right on that.”

He ducked out from behind the counter, resolutely ignoring the chuckling that followed him.

The rush that morning was slower than usual, as Jim’s professors clearly weren’t the only ones who had cancelled classes. But Bones and Spock still showed up for their daily caffeine, coated with a thorough dusting of snow. Jim had long ago gotten the impression that they must live close to one another and walk to Enterprise or Yorktown together, much as Jim and Sulu had in their grade school days. It explained why they were so often together, and why they could still make it in despite snow and ice that had closed many nearby roads.

Bones’ scowl was more pronounced than usual as he followed Spock inside. He shook his head with irritated vigor, sending half-melted droplets sailing through the air. Most of them spattered against Spock’s coat and face. Spock just sighed softly and took a step to the side, out of the splash zone.

The two of them lingered at the register longer than they usually did, because of the dearth of other customers. Jim was struck by how comfortable it felt, how easy and familiar. It had been a little less than a year, but already Bones and Spock had managed to become an integral and treasured part of his life. He always found himself looking forward to seeing them, thinking about what fact he could put up on the board that would spark an intense discussion with Spock, what terrible biology joke would get the best rise out of Bones. He’d figured out how to tell when Spock needed just a little bit of sugar added to his tea, when Bones needed decaf even when he asked for extra espresso. He knew how to make them smile, but he also knew when to just listen, when to stoke the fire beside their table and shut the hell up.

But for all that, as important as the two of them had become to him, he doubted that they would say the same of him.

Bones’ scowl had softened somewhat by the time he and Spock retreated to their table. But it wasn’t long before the sound of a heartfelt curse drifted across the shop. Jim glanced over just in time to see Bones stuff his phone in his pocket and stand, the scowl back in full force. Jim started to head for the break in the counter automatically, but then Spock caught Bones’ wrist and spoke to him quietly and Jim remembered that he had no business checking up on either of them.

Bones seemed to calm down as Spock talked to him, and he nodded. He grabbed his coat, put a hand on Spock’s shoulder for a moment, and then left, tossing Jim a distracted wave as he went. And it was none of Jim’s business, but he found himself walking over to Spock’s table anyway.

“Is everything all right with Bones?” he asked.

Spock’s eyebrow had long since stopped twitching skyward whenever Jim used the nickname.

“He is fine. His daughter has a snow day, however, and her usual babysitter is unable to take her on such short notice.”

It wasn’t the first time Jim had heard about Joanna, but he’d never gotten the chance to meet her.

“Is he going to get her?” he asked.

Spock shook his head and stood.

“Leonard is taking his advanced physiology class on a field trip, so I will be taking Joanna for the day. She is quite familiar with the Enterprise campus, and it should not be difficult to keep her entertained. She enjoys spending time with the monkeys from the animal behavior studies.”

But then Spock froze, his eyes widening slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

“The monkeys.” The words contained a degree of alarm that Jim wouldn’t have expected unless spoken during a Planet of the Apes movie.

“What about them?”

“Children are generally upset when animals they care for die, are they not?”

“Uh, yeah, Spock, that’s usually how it works. Why, did her pet just die or something?”

“No. But one of the monkeys succumbed to old age two weeks ago. He was Joanna’s favorite. She named him George.” Spock was staring at Jim in growing apprehension. “She will want to know where he is.”

“Yikes,” Jim said with a grimace. “Yeah, you might want to leave that little conversation to Bones.”

“She’s as intelligent as her father, she will know if I try to hide it from her.”

“Why don’t you bring her here?” Jim suggested. “She’ll be comfortable, and I’m sure we can find plenty for her to do. And I have the day off, so if you have to go, I can keep an eye on her.”

Spock was silent for a moment. Jim realized with a lurch that he’d just made a pretty sizable assumption, one that he really had no basis for. Just because he considered Bones and Spock to be his friends, didn’t mean that they necessarily felt the same way about him, and it certainly didn’t mean that Bones would want to trust him with his kid.

“That is, if you think Bones would be comfortable with that,” he hurried to add. “If not, you can still hang out here and just take her with you when you have to go.”

“Thank you, Jim,” Spock said, pulling on his coat. “I will go retrieve Joanna.”

He left without really answering the question that Jim hadn’t asked.

The whistling of the wind was louder than the bell as the door rattled open. Jim looked up to see Spock holding onto the mittened hand of a girl who looked to be about seven or eight. She looked around the shop with a hint of her father’s air of general dubious suspicion regarding the unknown, but her features quickly brightened as the place passed inspection. She tugged Spock further inside, her gaze zeroing in on Jim with sparkling hazel eyes that she’d clearly gotten from her father.

“You must be Joanna,” Jim said, giving her a warm smile.

“Indeed,” said Spock. “Joanna, this is Mr. Jim.”

“For you, just Jim will be fine,” Jim said, leaning over the counter and extending his hand down to the little girl.

Joanna removed her own hand from Spock’s and tugged the mitten from it before reaching up to return the handshake. She giggled as Jim pumped her tiny hand up and down with exaggerated seriousness.

“Now, what can I get for you?” he asked her.

“Do you have hot chocolate?”

“Do I have hot chocolate?” Jim repeated with mock incredulity, pressing a hand to his chest. “What kind of barista would I be if I didn’t have hot chocolate?”

“Not a very good one.”

“Not a very good one at all,” Jim agreed. “And you know what else I have?”

Joanna shook her head.

“Lots and lots of little tiny marshmallows. White ones, pink ones, green ones, you name it. And-” Jim lifted a dramatic finger and leaned over the counter again, “whipped cream and chocolate syrup. Any of that sound good?”

Joanna nodded energetically, and Jim smiled.

“Coming right up then,” he said. He straightened to look at Spock, who had been watching the exchange with a gentle warmth in his gaze. “Anything for you?”

“Green tea, thank you, Jim.”

Spock and Joanna lingered at the counter to watch as Jim made the hot chocolate. He invested his usual dramatic flair into the endeavor, and his chest warmed every time it earned him a giggle from Joanna.

He couldn’t help casting a few glances Spock’s way as he worked though. The professor was wearing the same coat he had been earlier this morning, but he seemed to have bulked up considerably underneath it. He was also wearing a floppy red and orange hat that looked like it had been knitted by a child, and mittens to match. Not to mention two scarves.

“You, ah, sure look nice and toasty there, Spock,” Jim said, fighting to control the twitching of his lips.

“Daddy says that Spock’s got a delicate system and that it’s important for him to be bundled up good when it’s cold,” Joanna reported earnestly. “Spock forgets sometimes though, so I have to remind him.”

“Your father has a marked tendency to worry too much,” Spock said, beginning to shed layers into Joanna’s waiting arms. The kid had really managed to get an impressive number on him.

“Now, that doesn’t sound like our Bones,” Jim said, ceding the battle with his smile.

Joanna wrinkled her nose. Of course, that might’ve had as much to do with the hideous red and white reindeer sweater that had just landed on top of her growing pile as it did with the nickname.

“Bones?” she repeated skeptically.

“Oh, it’s what I call your dad. The first time I ever saw him, he was dressed up like a skeleton.”

Joanna’s eyes brightened. She was clearly familiar with the outfit in question.

Having finally stripped off the last extra sweater and a second hat, Spock gathered the immense bundle of clothing back from Joanna. Jim took the opportunity to present the girl with a brimming mug topped with clouds of whipped cream, smiling as she beamed. Spock watched with one eyebrow raised as she took the first sip, smearing cream over half her face.

“We are staying here, for the time being,” he said dryly to Jim. “So if she starts ‘bouncing off the walls,’ as Leonard calls it, I trust I can count on you to aid in managing the situation you have helped to create.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Ben said, trying to hand Spock his tea before thinking better of it and passing it to Joanna instead. “He’s good at helping kids burn off a sugar rush. It helps that he’s still a giant kid at heart himself.”

Jim ignored them both, leaning over the edge of the counter to look at Joanna.

“So I can keep the nickname?” he checked.

Joanna nodded seriously.

“It’s way cooler than what he calls you,” she said.

Jim’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh?”

“I think it best we let Mr. Jim get back to work, Joanna,” Spock cut in smoothly, settling a hand on the little girl’s shoulder and attempting to steer her towards the back table without dropping sweaters and mittens all over the floor of the shop.

“Now, hang on!” Jim protested. “What-?”

“Yes, I think Mr. Jim getting back to work sounds like a great idea,” Ben said, nudging Jim with his elbow.

Spock and Joanna spent the whole morning at Yorktown. Joanna turned out to be a voracious reader, and she was content to sit by the fireplace and work steadily through the young reader novels that she’d brought with her. Jim didn’t think it wise to push his luck with another hot chocolate, but he did let Joanna try a few of the better tasting decaffeinated teas, and he snuck her a couple of cookies when he thought Spock wasn’t looking. And when she finally got bored with her books, he dug out the chalkboard stand that they used for advertising in the warmer months and handed over his supply of chalk for the specials board.

Spock surprised him by joining Joanna in her artwork. The man turned out to have a real knack for sketching, bringing the same careful concentration to it that he did to his academic work. Joanna would make a request, and he’d quickly draw up an outline for her to fill in with color. Jim couldn’t help but laugh at the mildly pained look that Spock was clearly trying to suppress when Joanna colored an entire desert scene in varying shades of purple.

Jim couldn’t resist snapping a few photos to send to Bones. He’d given both Bones and Spock his number within weeks of meeting them, by way of the tried and true method of writing it on their cups. The real victory hadn’t come until months later, when he’d gotten a text from an unknown number at five in the morning saying nothing but its gonna be a triple espresso kind of day.

“Draw Jim next!” Joanna ordered once Spock had photographed and erased the purple desert.

Jim expected some kind of protest, but Spock didn’t even blink. He also didn’t look up for reference once as he sketched, creating a remarkable likeness. He drew Jim not behind the counter in his apron, but standing beneath a starry sky, a telescope beside him as he tilted his face up to the heavens.

In the afternoon, Spock had to leave to teach a class. He startled Jim by taking him up on the offer to babysit.

“You’re sure Bones won’t mind?” Jim checked nervously.

“Leonard trusts you, Jim.” It was a calm statement of fact. As if it weren’t supposed to knock Jim on his ass. “As do I. And Joanna clearly enjoys your company.”

Jim fought back a smile. They trusted him.

“In that case, do you think it would be all right if I took Jo on a little field trip of our own?”

When three-thirty rolled around, Jim got Joanna bundled up in her winter gear and walked her to the bus stop to pick up Demora, whose public school hadn’t been cancelled. Jim had been a little nervous about introducing the two girls, but they took to each other almost instantly, as only little kids could. He held their hands for the short walk to the Enterprise campus, but instead of going into the biology building that they were both familiar with, he led them to his own domain.

One of the Institute’s many claims to fame was its remarkable observatory. The building not only contained an impressive array of telescopes and imaging and survey equipment, it had been designed as an educational tool for all ages. It boasted a small but lovingly curated museum, and Jim led Demora and Joanna through the interactive exhibits detailing the history of astronomy, the discoveries made by modern astrophysicists, the hints of untold worlds beyond their own. The girls were captivated, and although Jim had spent innumerable hours in this building already, he felt like he was seeing it through new eyes as he watched them experience it for the first time.

Once they’d finished in the museum, he guided them on a tour of the rest of the building. One of his favorite rooms had a domed ceiling and a projector built into the floor. It could broadcast just about any image, including the feed from some of the observatory’s telescopes. As one of Scotty’s research students, Jim had access to most of the equipment. Taking full advantage of this, and the fact that it got dark stupidly early in the winter, he linked the projector to one of his favorite telescopes, fiddling with the controls.

“All right, lay back and close your eyes,” he instructed. He pushed one last button. “Okay, open them again.”

He smiled as both girls let out wondering gasps. He grabbed the remote controller and settled down beside them on the floor, peering up at the sweeping, incredibly detailed view of the heavens. Countless stars and planets and solar systems twinkled overhead, galaxies shining brightly through them all. It was a view Jim would never get tired of.

“So,” he said, thumbing the joystick on the remote. “Where do you guys wanna go first?”

They spent almost two hours exploring the universe together. Jim talked as they went, telling the girls some of his favorite stories and legends that went along with some of the constellations and galxies, listening as they made up their own for others.

Eventually the door creaked open, and a familiar figure appeared in the light that spilled into the room. Jim gestured for Bones to come inside and close the door again.

“Hi Daddy!” Joanna said cheerfully, waving.

“Hey, JoJo. You having a good time?”

Joanna nodded, her hair picking up static from the carpet.

“Jim was just telling me and Demora about what happens when black holes smash into each other, but before he was telling us about how the Greeks thought that bears got stuck in the stars, so we really don’t know as much as we think we do.”

“That right?” It was hard to make out Bones’ expression by nothing but the light from the projected heavens, but Jim thought he was smiling.

“Yeah! Can we stay a while longer, Daddy? Jim promised to tell us about ring galaxies next.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to make Jim break his promise, now would we?”

Bones sank down onto the carpeted floor beside his daughter, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead before he settled onto his back. He turned his head to the other side, meeting Jim’s gaze.

“So,” he said, his voice soft. “Ring galaxies?”

Jim smiled and launched back into his tour of the universe.

When Chekov came down with a bout of the flu, Sulu had the idea to turn the usual acoustic Fridays into open mic nights. Jim was originally hesitant about the whole concept, having seen some truly cringe-worthy performances in his day. He was overruled though, and he was glad for it. For while there were definitely some people who should’ve stayed in the audience, there was also a lot of real talent. And even the bad acts were unfailingly entertaining, whether or not that was the original intention.

Bones and Spock had been regulars for the Friday live music, and they showed up consistently for the open mic nights too. Jim spotted Bones dumping more liquor into his coffee on some nights than others, but they came. Some of the Enterprise students seemed a little nervous about their presence at first, but it didn’t take long for them to relax. The two professors had become such common fixtures at Yorktown that no one really batted an eye at them anymore.

And one Friday night in early December, Bones went right ahead and put any remaining fears to rest.

Jim wasn’t technically on duty that evening, so he elected to sit with Spock and Bones at their usual table. So he was one of the first to know about it when Bones got up, shot a look at Spock, and headed for the stage.

“He knows the bathroom’s the other way, right?” Jim asked, bewildered.

“Yes, he is quite aware.” Spock’s eyes were shining with amusement as he watched his friend approach the mic.

“I want it known that I’m up here because I lost a bet, not voluntarily,” Bones said once he’d taken the stage, earning himself a chuckle from the audience. “Also, I have a very delicate ego, so any of my students out there who applaud at the appropriate times will get extra credit on your next exam.”

A few students started clapping wildly, and Bones gave them a good-natured glare.

“I said appropriate times.”

Bones stepped back and cleared his throat. Jim watched, buzzing with anticipation. Bones hadn’t said anything about being a singer, but his speaking voice was like smoke and honey, so Jim could only imagine what his singing voice sounded like.

And he would have to keep imagining, because Bones evidently hadn’t gone up there to sing.

Instead, he was putting on a magic show.

Bones was a fucking magician.

Jim would never have guessed it, but Bones’ dry wit, playfully dramatic proclivities, and startlingly deft hands made him a natural. He managed to utterly charm the audience, turning even the cheesiest of tricks into an entertaining spectacle. He made cards disappear and multiply, produced colorful handkerchiefs apparently from thin air, set dollar bills on fire without damaging them, the whole nine yards.

Jim oohed and ahhed and laughed and applauded with the rest of the audience, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. This was a side of Bones he’d known existed but had never gotten to see quite like this, and he found himself creeping well past charmed.

And then Bones decided to take his show on the road, so to speak. He entered the audience, seeking volunteers for individual tricks. When Jim raised his hand, he found himself on the receiving end of a dizzying series of coin tricks.

“Good God, man,” Bones said finally, taking Jim gently by the face and tilting his head to the side to peer into his ear. “You’ve got to clean these things out. Look at what you’ve got stuck in there.”

His warm touch was so distracting that he probably didn’t even need to use whatever slight of hand he employed to produce the effect of extracting coins from Jim’s ears. He winked and went to hand Jim the coins, but they vanished before they reached his palm.

“Oh, sorry,” Bones said. “Those can get a little shy. This one, though-” He produced another quarter from Jim’s ear. “This one’s a real ham.”

But that coin also managed to disappear on its way to Jim.

“Must be you,” Bones said with a mock glare. “Should’ve known.”

Jim just laughed. If he knew Bones, all the coins would find their way into his tip jar by the end of the night.

Bones moved on, delighting Demora with a couple of card tricks, making mugs of coffee and tea disappear from their owners’ hands, baffling one of his students with a set of interlocking rings. He finally stopped in front of the fireplace, his back to the flames. Dramatic bastard probably knew exactly how good he looked in that lighting.

“Now, I hope you won’t think less of me as a magician for not pulling a rabbit out of a hat, but let me tell you, those little bastards bite. But I know I left…” Bones started patting himself down dramatically, checking his pockets. “Aha!”

He slid a hand into his back pocket, and produced a colorful bouquet of paper flowers, far too large to have fit. He brandished it dramatically as his small audience applauded in delight. He bowed and then turned, leaning forward to extend the bouquet to Spock, who took it with a rare, soft smile. Jim watched their eyes meet, watched something pass between them, something vast and untouchable, tender and intimate. He watched the world narrow down to just the two of them in the space between one heartbeat and the next.

Oh. Oh. Funny, how the art of illusion was what finally forced Jim to glimpse the truth.

He wondered if Bones and Spock knew they were in love.

One of the unfortunate truths to running a business in a college town was that you either stayed open stupidly late, or you got left behind for the competition. Jim usually wasn’t the one who had to close up Yorktown at 2 AM, but Gaila had come down with a nasty stomach bug yesterday and Gary had an exam the next morning and Sulu and Ben had taken Demora to visit Ben’s parents and Chekov got loopy when he didn’t get enough sleep, so he’d drawn the short straw. Well, he’d given himself the short straw, but Ben had trusted management of the shop to him while they were gone, and he wasn’t about to foist the responsibility off on anyone else.

He had just chivvied the last two stragglers from the shop when the door opened again. He turned to inform the newcomer that they were closed, but the words died on his lips.

“Spock,” Jim said, surprised. He and Bones were usually the responsible type; early to bed, early to rise, rinse, repeat. Jim had never seen one of them here this late. And while he didn’t think he’d ever be unhappy to see Spock, he couldn’t say it felt like a good sign. “Is everything okay?”

“I…” Spock looked vaguely lost. He glanced around the shop, as if he weren’t quite sure what he was doing there. But then his eyes settled on Jim, and he let out a breath. “I did not want to be alone.”

Coming from Spock, he might as well have cried out for help. Gut lurching, Jim dropped the rag he’d been using to wipe down tables and hurried to Spock’s side.

“Spock, what’s wrong?” he asked, touching a hand to his friend’s arm. “It’s not- has something happened to Bones?”

Spock looked away, and Jim’s heart stopped.

“Leonard is fine, Jim. He left for a conference this morning, and I…” Spock shook his head, and tried to turn away, back to the door. “I apologize, I should not have come here-”

“No, hey, just tell me what’s wrong,” Jim urged, tightening his hold on Spock’s arm to stop him from leaving. “Let me be here for you.”

Spock was frozen for just a moment, but then he sighed and turned back to Jim.

“A recent line of experiments in our lab were looking extremely promising,” he said, an unusual dullness in his level tone. “Leonard and I thought that they had the potential to provide key advancements, perhaps even lead to meaningful treatments within the next few years. But it all amounted to nothing. The experiments led to a dead end, if you will.”

Jim sighed, squeezing Spock’s arm.

“Why don’t you sit down?” he invited gently, leading his friend to one of the comfortable old armchairs. “I’ll get you some tea.”

Jim selected a tea infused with chamomile and lavender, adding a splash of soy milk. He set it down in front of Spock and sank into the chair opposite his.

“It is…illogical, to be feeling like this.” Spock seemed almost frustrated that he was frustrated, and Jim felt his heart squeeze. “This is the nature of research. It is never without its setbacks, and I-”

“Spock, hey.” On impulse, Jim reached out to take Spock’s hand. He didn’t let himself question it, or even think about it, really, just ducked his head to meet Spock’s reluctant gaze. “It’s your work, it’s your life. There’s nothing illogical about being upset when it doesn’t go the way you hoped.”

Spock was utterly still, eyes fixed on their interlaced fingers. But he didn’t pull away.

“I have always been dedicated to my work,” he said quietly. “However, in this case, it contains a personal element as well, one that I admit I am finding difficult to ignore at present.”

Jim waited, but nothing else was forthcoming.

“Personal element?” he prodded.

“My graduate thesis advisor was a remarkable man,” Spock said after another long pause. Not exactly the direction Jim would have expected, but he’d wait it out. “I grew to respect him above any other instructor or peer, and he is without question the most influential mentor I have ever had. Beyond our professional interactions, we eventually cultivated a personal friendship as well, one that I valued highly.”

Spock still hadn’t let go of Jim’s hand, and he squeezed it then, not even seeming to realize what he was doing.

“He suffered severe spinal damage in the vehicle accident that killed my mother.”

Jim gasped softly, feeling as though the wind had been kicked out of him. But he said nothing, knowing from personal experience how useless the words “I’m sorry” were in a situation like this. He just waited, and Spock filled the silence.

“For years, I struggled to find meaning in the accident, in my mother’s death. I have never been one to believe in such things, but it made coping with what had happened more bearable, to a degree. My background in neuroscience meant that I was unusually qualified to make something of what had happened, and I thought that perhaps, if I were able to help heal Dr. Pike and countless others like him…” Spock sighed slightly, still not looking at Jim. “I do not know what exactly I had hoped for. I was displaying a degree of foolishness and naivety of which Dr. Pike would no doubt disapprove, if he knew.”

“Well, I don’t know this Dr. Pike, but I seriously doubt that,” Jim said. “You’re honoring him, Spock, him and your mother. I’ve seen your work, and it’s- it’s incredible. I can barely even understand half of it, but I know that much. That you’re doing it in their names doesn’t detract from that, and it definitely doesn’t make you foolish.”

They didn’t say much after that. Spock seemed to be taking Jim’s words to heart though, and some of the weight that had been pressing on him appeared to ease slightly as they sat together. Jim just watched him, marveling at this complex, brilliant, fascinating man who had trusted him with a moment of such vulnerability.

Jim found himself humbled as he sat there, humbled and something more.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, hands still intertwined and silence settled like a blanket around them. But eventually, Spock pulled in a slow, deep breath and let go of Jim.

“I have kept you for long enough,” he said, standing. “I will leave you to the rest of your night in peace.”

Jim got to his feet at well.

“Let me walk you home,” he blurted, unable to stand the thought of letting Spock go in this state.

“That is not necessary, Jim.”

“Let me do it anyway.”

It was a sign of just how bad Spock was feeling that he didn’t argue further. Jim helped him into his coat and held the door for him, following him out into the icy December night. Snow had started to fall while they were inside, and the delicate flakes swirled around them as they walked. Jim realized that he’d forgotten a coat, but he didn’t let out a word of complaint as a chill quickly seeped into him.

He stayed close to Spock’s side, but he realized quickly that despite having spent countless hours talking to the man, he still had no idea where he lived. As he’d always suspected, the answer ended up being just a few blocks away from Yorktown. It was a small row house, the number 1701 gleaming in silver characters over the door. It was a charming, peaceful place, but Jim hated that Spock would be going inside alone.

“Would you like me to stay?” he asked, turning to Spock.

“Thank you, Jim, but no.” The look Spock was giving him was full, but of what, Jim couldn’t quite tell. There was gratitude and warmth, but there was more too, a lot more.

“She would be proud of you, Spock.” Jim wasn’t entirely sure where the words had come from, but they felt right.

“How could you know that?” The words were honest, not belligerent. Jim gave Spock a gentle smile.

“Because with you as a son, any mother would be.”

Spock blinked and looked down. Jim thought he knew him well enough by now to understand that the gesture wasn’t out of anger or anything similarly negative, but rather the instinct to hide emotion he didn’t quite know what to do with. And Jim couldn’t look away.

Spock was achingly beautiful, his features bathed in the amber light of the streetlamp. Jim found himself reaching out, cupping Spock’s face in his hands and tilting his chin up gently. Jim’s breath caught as Spock met his gaze again.

No one had ever looked at him like that before, with such intensity, like it was the most important thing they’d ever done. It sent something sweeping through Jim, and he took a step closer without even meaning to. Spock didn’t move, just kept on watching him, and this close, Jim thought he could see something like longing in his eyes.

Jim leaned in further, no longer cold at all as his blood began to hum. They were breathing the same air now, and Jim could almost taste Spock on his lips. But he wanted more than almost, and all it would take was one last fraction of an inch-

Spock tensed and pulled away abruptly, his expression closing off.

“I cannot, Jim,” he said firmly, but not without a touch of regret.

Jim blinked and took a step back of his own, the winter air seeming to hit him anew in an icy rush that bit into his very bones. He crossed his arms over his stomach.

Of course, how could he have been such an idiot? This was Spock, and Spock was in love with Bones, even if he couldn’t see it yet, and Jim was just the guy who brought them their drinks and made them smile sometimes.

“I’m sorry,” Jim choked, reeling back another step. “I’m so sorry, Spock.”

“Don’t be.” Spock’s hands twitched, as if to reach out, but then he slid them firmly into his pockets. “Please, do not be sorry, Jim.”

He looked at Jim like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t find the words. He started to turn away, but then he paused. He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over Jim’s shoulders, avoiding touching him all the while.

Jim wanted to say something, anything, but a suffocating lump had lodged in his throat, and his voice failed him. Then Spock just turned and strode up the steps to the small porch, and a moment later he was gone.

Jim was man enough to admit it - he was hiding. He switched shifts, begged off, steered well clear of the biological sciences buildings on campus. He started doing his homework in his bedroom or the physics lounge, took the back way out of the apartment so that he didn’t have to go through the shop. Whatever it took to avoid seeing Bones and Spock.

It wasn’t as if it were difficult to keep himself busy. Finals were well and truly upon him, and even he had to keep his nose firmly to the grindstone. Still, he would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t miss them. But he’d rather miss them than feel like his heart was trying to electrocute itself, which was what had happened the one time he tried to look in on the shop while they were there. He’d ducked back out again before they could see him, but the experience had left him with a cold pit in his gut and a hollow ache in his chest.

“Is there anything you want to talk to me about?”

Jim looked up from the star charts he’d been puzzling over for the last hour to find Sulu leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.

“Uh…Did I forget to take out the trash again?” Jim asked.

“Yes, actually, but that’s not what I was referring to.”

“Oh. Then…no?”

“Really?” Sulu uncrossed his arms and entered the room fully, dropping down onto the edge of Jim’s bed and giving him a challenging look. “So you can’t think of any reason why Dr. McCoy would’ve dropped by my office today and asked me if everything was all right with you?”

Jim grimaced, stomach dropping.

“Dr. McCoy is always worrying about something,” he said, pretending to be absorbed in his work. “It’s hardwired into his nature.”

“Mhm. And is Dr. Spock always worrying about something, too? Because he’s been asking Ben about you.”

“Yeah, well, maybe McCoy is rubbing off on him.”

“Jim.”

Jim tensed, but finally turned to look at his friend again. There was way too much understanding in Sulu’s eyes. There was really no point in pretending.

“Leave it to me, right?” Jim asked him with a bitter smile. “The guy who normally doesn’t want to touch relationships with a ten foot pole, and the first time I really fall in love, it’s- it’s this clusterfuck.”

Sulu’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline before he got his expression under control again. He clearly hadn’t been expecting his emotionally constipated friend to have reached that level of self-awareness yet. Truth be told, Jim hadn’t even let himself think the words before just then, but he couldn’t deny their truth.

He’d fallen in love, plain and simple. He’d fallen in love with not one, but two men who would never love him back. Because when Jim Kirk did something, he did it big and messy.

He rubbed at his face, letting out a humorless chuckle.

“Love triangles always were my least favorite trope,” he said.

“You have to tell them, Jim.”

“Do I? Because this whole emotional repression thing has been working out great so far.”

Sulu sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Self-pity’s not a good look on you, Kirk.”

“I’m not-” Jim snapped, but then he broke off with a sigh. He clenched and unclenched his fists. “I can’t tell them, Sulu. For one, they probably know already, and even if they don’t, what good would it do? They’ve been trying to spare my feelings as it is, and it’s not like I can ask any more of them. They’re in love with each other, not me, and even if that weren’t the case, how the hell would I choose between them? There’s no way this works out for me, and I’m doing my best to accept that, but it’s turning out to be pretty damn difficult. So you’ll excuse me if I’m having trouble keeping a smile on my face in the meantime.”

Sulu was quiet for a moment.

“So what are you gonna do?” he asked, more gently. “You can’t just keep ignoring them, Jim. They don’t seem like the type to give up easily.”

“They’re not.” Jim closed his eyes for a moment, took a breath. He looked up at his friend. “Which is why it’s time to do what I should’ve done a while ago.”

Two days after final grades were submitted, Ben closed the shop early so that he and Sulu could help Jim make it over for the holidays. They’d spent hours making paper snowflakes with Demora, which they hung from the ceiling and stuck to the walls. Jim and Sulu strung blue and white lights around the edges of the room while Ben assembled a small artificial Christmas tree beside the fireplace.

“You’re sure they’ll be here?” Jim checked with Sulu as he lit a fire in the hearth.

“I just talked to Dr. McCoy today. They’ll be here, Jim.”

The words should probably have brought with them some measure of relief. They didn’t.

Jim just swallowed and added another log to the fire. They swept the floor, wiped down the windows, dimmed the lights to an intimate glow. The final touch was a sprig of mistletoe hung over a certain table in the back corner. Jim stared up at it, heart heavy.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Sulu told him softly.

Jim blinked and looked away from the offending plant.

“I know,” he said. “But they deserve it.”

Sulu just gave him a small smile. There was sympathy in his warm gaze, but there was a hint of pride as well.

“Ben and I will be upstairs, if you want some company afterwards,” he said.

“I…thank you, Hikaru.”

Sulu patted him bracingly on the shoulder and headed for the stairs, leaving Jim alone. The shop was warm and festive around him, as inviting as it had ever looked. It didn’t exactly match the way Jim was feeling.

He shook himself. He was doing this for Bones and Spock.

Speaking of…He strode to the door and tugged it open just as the two men reached it. Yep, self-electrocuting heart again. And yet somehow it was still good to see them.

“Jim.” He’d never seen Bones look so uncertain. He and Spock were frozen in the doorway, watching him. “Are you all right?”

Jim forced a smile.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Sorry I’ve been a little…scarce, lately. Just, you know, busy. Finals, and all that. But come on, get inside; it’s freezing.”

“You appear to be closed,” Spock objected. “We do not wish to impose-”

“We’re not closed to you,” Jim said.

Bones didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed Spock by the sleeve and tugged him inside. But then he, too, stopped in his tracks.

“Wow. The place looks amazing, Jim.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Jim hadn’t felt this nervous in a long time. But then again, he’d never cared about anyone quite the way he cared about these two. “Come over here.”

He led them over to their usual table, although it didn’t look quite so usual today. It was draped in a crisp white tablecloth and set for two, illuminated softly by the light of three candles in the menorah at its center. He pulled out their chairs, but neither of them sat.

“Jim.” It was Spock who spoke up this time, voice touched with concern. “This behavior is highly irregular.”

“I know,” Jim said. “Humor me.”

They both sat, and Jim attempted another smile.

“In the spirit of the holiday season, I wanted to give you guys a gift. Well, a couple gifts, I guess, but the first part is easier.” Jim gestured around the shop. “A nice, quiet evening in for my two favorite introverts. I ordered takeout from the falafel place you like, Spock, and from that diner you’re always talking about, Bones, and I already know how you like your drinks. I’ll be your waiter for the evening, but you’ll have to be a little patient with me, because believe it or not, in all the jobs I’ve had over the years, I’ve never actually been one before.”

He was starting to ramble. He cleared his throat.

“So. That’s the first part.”

Now, the second part. Come on, Jim, you can do this.

“Jim, this is…” Bones glanced at Spock, then around the empty shop. “This is incredibly sweet of you, but Spock and I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Jim lifted a hand to stop him.

“Can I just- do you mind if I go first?” he asked, a little desperately. He wasn’t sure he could go through with this if he had to wait.

Bones watched him for a moment, his eyes unreadable.

“Sure, Jim,” he said, and his voice was quiet, almost resigned. “Go ahead.”

Jim took a deep breath. And then another, because the words still got stuck in his throat. He looked at Bones, and then at Spock. This was for them. For them.

“You guys mean a lot to me,” he began. “More than that, you- you’re two of the most remarkable people I’ve ever met, and you’ve changed my life just by being in it, and I’ll always be grateful for that. And I’m sorry if I’m overstepping here, because I know I’m just-” he waved a hand vaguely, frustrated by his lack of eloquence.

What was it about these two that made him feel like a bumbling teenager again?

“But you two deserve to be happy,” he went on. “And that’s what you do, you know? You make each other happy, and it’s so obvious I can’t believe you haven’t-” he broke off, because both Bones and Spock were staring at him now. He swallowed hard, gut tight. “I just can’t stand to watch you both missing out on something incredible. What you have, it’s the kind of thing a lot of people only dream of, and you don’t even see it. I know what it looks like when people are made for each other, and that’s you guys.”

He managed a smile.

“So just- think about it, okay?” he urged. “Think about what you mean to each other, and what more you could be, because you two are great together, you’re amazing, and you deserve that.”

He finally fell silent. The words had left him feeling oddly drained, and he found himself holding his breath as he watched Bones and Spock for their reactions.

They were staring at each other, and they didn’t seem offended or outright dismissive, which Jim supposed were positive signs. But they did seem baffled and slightly incredulous, which was less promising. Jim wished that he’d put on some background music or something, because he’d never heard a silence so loud.

“I guess this is what we get, huh?” Bones said, shaking his head. He looked back at Jim before Spock could reply. “Sit down.”

He grabbed a bewildered Jim by the wrist and tugged him into the chair that Spock snagged from a neighboring table. He didn’t relinquish his grip even once Jim had sunk heavily onto the chair.

“Jim-” Bones shook his head again, huffing out a breath that wasn’t quite a chuckle. “Spock and I do know we make each other happy. It’s why we’ve been dating for three years.”

Jim wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been expecting, but that wasn’t it. He didn’t even register Bones’ meaning for a few long seconds. Then he stared back and forth between him and Spock, feeling his jaw drop open.

“You’ve been- but you- I- this whole time?” he sputtered.

“For as long as you have known us,” Spock confirmed. “We attempt to be discreet, for the sake of professionalism, but it has never been a secret. We did not realize that you were unaware.”

It all made sense now. The casual, thoughtless ease the two of them displayed around each other, the way they bickered like an old married couple, their automatic and unwavering support of one another, the fact that Bones’ daughter treated Spock like a second father…Jim felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner.

“Oh,” he said, slumping back slightly. “Oh, well that’s- that’s good, I guess, I mean it’s great, I’m glad. You two belong together.”

And he meant that. But it didn’t diminish the hollow ache in his gut. He found himself suddenly unable to look at either of them, so he dropped his gaze to the tablecloth.

“Yeah, we do.” There was something gentle about Bones’ voice. He still hadn’t let go of Jim, and now he adjusted his grip, sliding his fingers over Jim’s wrist and taking his hand instead. “Which is why we’re on the same page about this.”

Jim stared down at their joined hands, baffled. His breath caught as a different set of fingers found his other hand, curling around it. He dragged his gaze up to Spock’s face to find him watching him with warm eyes.

“This?” Jim whispered, eyes darting uncertainly back to Bones.

“This,” Bones repeated firmly. He shot a glance at Spock. “Jim, Spock and I have never been the conventional types, not in some areas. When we find something that works, we run with it, even if that pisses people off.”

“Especially then, in some cases for you, Leonard,” Spock added.

“Guilty,” Bones admitted with a small smile. “But the point is…yes, Spock and I have been happy together, and could’ve stayed that way for the rest of our lives, probably. But when you showed up, we were…better. You just- you added something, Jim, some- some spark, or energy, or soul. You managed to slip right into our lives like you belonged there, because, well, you do. You gave us a reason to smile in the mornings, something to look forward to after a long day in the lab. I mean hell, the coffee in this place is great, but it’s not why we spend hours here almost every single day. Being around you, it just makes us…”

He shook his head, a little helplessly. Well, at least Jim wasn’t the only one struggling with words.

“We’ve both been feeling it for a while,” Bones went on. “But I’m not sure either of us quite understood what it really was. But then Spock told me about that night, when you almost kissed him.”

Jim felt a sick feeling coil in his gut as the memory took on a whole different light. Spock hadn’t been uninterested in him, he’d been staying faithful to Bones. And Jim had tried to…

“I’m sorry-” he began, but Bones shook his head.

“Don’t be,” he said. “It’s what finally gave us a little clarity, helped us figure out what we want, what we both want.” He squeezed Jim’s hand. “Which is you.”

It took a lot to render Jim literally speechless. This qualified.

“Leonard is referring to a committed relationship, not merely a sexual arrangement,” Spock added when a few seconds of expectant silence had ticked by. “In case that was unclear.”

“God, yeah, sorry,” Bones said, running his free hand through his hair. “I mean, you know you’re a good looking guy, but it’s not your pretty face that we’re after here. Well.” He grinned. “Not just your pretty face.”

He sobered again.

“Look, this is uncharted water for us all, Jim, but Spock and I really want the chance to figure it all out together, if you’ll have us. We think we could be amazing, like you said. But if this is too much, too…too different for you, and you don’t want to be a part of this, of us, we understand.”

Jim was still stunned, so much so that it took him a moment to process the out he was being offered. The out he couldn’t have wanted less.

“What? No!” He tightened his grip on the two hands in his. “God, are you kidding?”

Giddy joy was starting to bubble up inside him as he finally began to really process the situation. He felt a wide grin split his face.

“Of course I want you both, I just never thought-” He laughed. “Are you serious?”

Bones smirked, but it quickly widened into a genuine smile, delighted and relieved.

“Care to convince him, Spock?” he said.

“It would be my pleasure, Leonard.”

And then Spock was leaning around the table and pressing his mouth to Jim’s. The kiss was gentle but insistent, starting out sweet but quickly turning into something more intense as Jim finally let himself believe this was happening. He clung tight to Bones’ hand as he let Spock claim his mouth, stealing his breath and setting his pulse racing.

When it was over and Spock settled back in his seat, Jim shot a quick glance at Bones, worried that actually seeing his boyfriend kissing someone else would have changed his mind about the whole endeavor. But there were no misgivings in his dark eyes, no jealousy or uncertainty. There was want though, plain and simple, and it made Jim just as breathless as Spock’s kiss had.

“I don’t know, Bones,” he said, managing a teasing tone. “I’m still not quite sure you mean it.”

Bones’ eyes sparked at the challenge. He hooked his foot around the leg of Jim’s chair, dragging him closer. When he kissed Jim, there was less than no room left for doubt.