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Spock wakes up and immediately knows something is wrong.
The blankets feel different, and the hum of the ship is replaced with an eerie calm. The air is marginally cooler, less than half a degree, and when Spock opens his eyes, he does not recognize the room that has replaced his private quarters.
Spock looks at his hands and stares at dark, worn skin and long fingers.
Spock rushes out of bed, and the mirror in the bathroom confronts him with the image of Ambassador Spock.
The captain takes seven point two seconds to answer the video comm. A whole three seconds faster than usual.
“Ambassador?” Hearing the soft tone coupled with the longing gaze directed intensely at him makes Spock’s skin prickle with severe discomfort. How could his counterpart stand being the recipient of such intense emotion?
“Captain,” Spock says with that voice that does not belong to him. “I believe we have ascertained whether the effects of the ritual on the planet Tiomos would take hold.”
The captain squints. “Spock?”
“It is me, Captain,” Spock says, impatient. “It is as the natives warned. My consciousness has been swapped into the body of the ambassador’s.”
“. . . Oh, fuck.” The captain disappears from view, no doubt to approach the entrance to their adjoined bathroom. Spock hears echoed banging on the door and the captain calling his name.
There is silence, then the soft noise of a door opening and a gasp of surprise. Spock hears low murmuring, and is unable to decipher what is being said through the speaker of the comm.
The captain comes back into view along with Spock’s own face, arranged in a perfect stoic mask. It is jarring to see his own face acting independently from him, effortlessly in the calm state Spock struggles to achieve.
“Jim,” his body says, and Spock cannot help a grimace hearing the easy use of the captain’s first name with his own voice.
The captain looks overwhelmed, staring back and forth between Spock’s body and Spock himself, no doubt unused to seeing a turbulent state of expression on the ambassador’s face.
“Inform me what occurred on the planet you visited,” the ambassador prompts.
Spock speaks up first. “Tiomos engages in a tradition to welcome newcomers. There is a temporary exchange of souls between the village head and visitor. To exchange the consciousnesses with another is an invitation to understand their culture, and vice versa. I was elected to be the representative of our away team. There appeared to be no effect at the time.”
Spock breaks off the relay of information and shifts uncomfortably. “Ambassador, do you feel any abnormal effects due to the transference?”
“I cannot,” is the weak reply. Spock resists the urge to frown.
The captain focuses on Spock through the screen. “What’s wrong, Commander?”
“Captain, I am experiencing unusual physical sensations, but cannot pinpoint where it is coming from. The closest feeling I can use to describe this sensation is - irritation.” Spock shifts again. “The head villager warned of possible side effects due to incompatible minds, however the ambassador does not experience this sensation, therefore this cannot be a side effect of the body swap.”
“Is it bothering you?”
“It impedes my ability to focus, however I believe I will be able to contain the sensation with proper meditation.”
Spock’s body blinks wearily at the captain. “How long will the effects of this ritual last?”
“I think it was a month?” Jim looks at the ambassador with that blatant, maudlin expression. The ambassador is oblivious as usual despite staring straight at the captain.
Spock pretends not to notice and begins calculations of how many hours it would require to intercept the Enterprise. “I will depart tonight to meet the Enterprise halfway, Captain.”
“No,” the ambassador interrupts in Spock’s voice. “I require items from my living quarters that only I can retrieve. You will wait until we go to you.”
The strange itching sensation clouds Spock’s normally sharp senses, and it is becoming aggravating. The danger of losing control in front of an audience is too close. “Do what is necessary. I must end the call and meditate.”
Jim grabs the screen. “Commander, wait-”
Spock disconnects the call and is confronted with the ambassador’s face reflected in the dark video screen. His face looks haggard.
Spock scrubs his face and sighs.
The Enterprise is traveling towards New Vulcan at full speed.
Meditation does little to assist Spock’s struggling mental controls. He spends the night alternating between distracted focus and lying awake in the ambassador’s bed.
The sun rises and the uncomfortable itching, hollow sensation persists.
The captain video calls at night. He doesn’t stop staring at Spock.
“The ambassador’s been asleep this entire time,” the captain says. “I’m worried, Spock. He can’t stay awake for more than two minutes before he falls asleep again.”
“This body is a great deal more difficult for me to control, and requires more mental exertion. Perhaps the ambassador’s mind is overcompensating as it resides within my body.”
“You think that’s what it is?” The captain blows out a breath. “Sounds rough for both of you. Just sit tight, Spock. We'll be there in less than a Standard day. “
They end the call.
Spock lies down, anticipating another restless night. The itching, nagging feeling permeating every inch of Spock’s body makes him want to physically dismantle something. Preferably in an irrational and violent manner.
Spock finds the hand resting on his chest trailing down over his loose pants between his legs. Spock has already determined in the shower that the anatomy of the ambassador’s is identical to his own. Spock presses the hand down, and the pressure is temporarily relieved, only to add to the mounting discomfort.
What is this sensation? Spock has never touched himself in bed before, lacking the desire to do so. He runs the hand down again, unsure of how to proceed. The room seems to be growing hotter. Spock removes the shirt and underwear, and turns to kneel on the covers. He runs the hand between his legs again, dragging fingers over bare skin.
It does not feel pleasurable, but it is helping to relieve the unexplainable tension in his torso and lower back.
Spock pauses and retracts his hand in confusion. The sensitive slit is becoming wet with fluid, smearing onto Spock’s hand. This is not an anatomical feature Spock has experienced from his own body. Spock puts the fingers inside the slick folds of the slit, and the strange pressure sparks.
Spock grimaces. It is not enough. He begins to move his fingers around inside the slit, probing for a location that would bring the swiftest relief. The touch only adds to the mounting pressure. Spock is starting to sweat from the heat. The slick is dripping down his wrist onto the covers.
Spock nearly startles from the sensation of his cock slipping out of its inner sheath. It feels awkward and heavy, bobbing in the space between Spock’s thighs. Spock drags a slick hand up the length and gasps. The intensified sensation rippling up his spine is agonizing, verging on pain. He strokes again with a noise of frustration. He still feels empty.
Spock squeezes his eyes shut in a belated apology to the ambassador for the way he must handle his body. He moves the hand stroking the cock further down between his legs, and tentatively pokes a finger inside of him.
He slides the finger in deeper, and lets out a sharp gasp when he curls the long digit. He keeps adding fingers gradually, until he is panting and pressing three fingers inside himself, slippery with his own slick.
Spock grunts as his fingers forcefully thrust at his hole, massaging its walls. The stifling pressure inside Spock climaxes and Spock cants into his fingers, panting and groaning. The strange itching finally abates, leaving Spock clear-headed and exhausted, and very much aware of how sticky his hands and thighs are. Spock wants to collapse on the covers, but it will not be possible for him to fall asleep in this state.
Spock groans and drags himself out of bed to the bathroom.
He wakes up again in the middle of the night, his body demanding that the process be repeated. Twice.
“I do not understand how you survive in this vessel,” Spock says with exhaustion, blinking at the video comm while wrapped in a blanket. “The carnal desires that riddle your body are exhausting to deal with.”
For the first time, the ambassador looks more apologetic than sleepy. “Even at your age, I ceaselessly sought gratification through physical touch. I can only assume what you are enduring now.”
The ambassador looks as if he is about to say something else. Spock frowns. “Is something wrong?”
“I must ask - a favor from you. I request you respect my privacy. There may be items you find questionable in my quarters.”
Spock wants to roll his eyes. “If you are referring to the silicone Klingon dildo, it has already been discovered and utilized. The item is unusual but hardly questionable.”
The ambassador pauses, inscrutable as always. “You will understand if you see it. You must promise me not to speak to anyone of it, including the captain.”
Spock is too exhausted, too frustrated to deny the request. He lowers his head, and the ambassador seems to take it as acquiescence.
The call ends and Spock staggers to the bathroom. He has never sought painkillers before, but the headache he is currently experiencing in his left temple is severe and persistent. He opens the cabinet.
The shelves are barren except for five pill bottles at eye level, turned to hide the text on the labels.
Spock pauses.
He reaches out to inspect each, one by one from right to left, leaving them in the same position he found them in. The furrow in his eyebrows deepens as he reads each label. The number of doses left in most of the containers are still high.
Spock carefully replaces the last pill bottle and closes the cabinet door.
“Don’t Vulcans deal with this mind swap shit all the time?” Jim sits on the edge of the ambassador’s bed, watching Spock's body navigate the quarters, back and forth, organizing items into a suitcase. “Why can’t we go meet one of your Vulcan mind physicians?”
Spock sighs from where he is sitting on a chair, hands folded in his lap, unsure of what to do with his body. “Mind transferrences always have an inherent risk associated with them, but perhaps-”
“No,” the ambassador says rather primly. He latches the suitcase closed and locks it. “I do not trust the current integrity of my younger counterpart’s mind or my own. The repercussions of a mind meld of any sort could be devastating in our states.”
Spock resists the urge to go to the bathroom and see if the medications have been relocated.
The ambassador continues to speak. “You have already mentioned the effects of the Tiomos ritual are temporary. Therefore, the safest option is to wait until the effects have worn off.”
Jim looks tenderly at Spock’s body. “You are always welcome on the Enterprise, Ambassador.”
Spock grimaces and stands. “Captain, we must decide if the crew is to be informed of what has occurred.”
“Of course they cannot know of this,” the ambassador says. He looks at the captain as if expecting him to agree.
Jim shrugs. “I don’t see any reason for subterfuge, Ambassador. They’ve seen weirder. Commander Spock can perform his duties out of sight of the general public. Besides, the crew likes you.” He flips out the communicator and calls the ship to transport them aboard.
Spock attempts to gauge the ambassador's reaction but his face is turned away from them.
“Ambassador Spock!”
Spock is overwhelmed by the number of people greeting him. Has the ambassador always received such a lavish welcome? He cannot remember witnessing the ambassador’s arrivals on the ship before.
“Let’s not crowd the Commander, there,” the captain says cheerfully.
Uhura blinks at Spock, who has shied away in discomfort. She looks at the captain. “What - ?” Uhura turns from Spock to Spock’s body. “Hold on. Tiomos. Does that by any chance mean - Ambassador?”
Spock’s body smiles kindly in affirmation, arms tucked behind his back. It is as if a dam has been opened. Spock watches the crew crowding around Spock’s body. He looks full of warmth and wholly trustworthy.
Spock cannot help bitterly drawing comparisons. He has never received this type of acknowledgement when he was in his own body.
The captain begins to explain the situation to the crew, but the ambassador is rapidly becoming drowsy again. Spock watches the captain notice the ambassador nodding off where he stands and goes over to them. “Captain, I will escort Ambassador Spock to the guest quarters.”
The captain nods. “Mr. Spock. We will see you on the bridge soon.”
After escorting the ambassador, Spock lingers in his private quarters. Finally, he gets up to replicate a measuring scanner and record the ambassador's measurements.
His own uniforms will undoubtedly not fit the ambassador’s.
Even as he waits in the turbolift, Spock continues to adjust the uniform on the narrower frame of the ambassador’s body.
Spock finally steps onto the bridge. “I apologize for my tardiness,” he says to the captain before resuming his position at the science station. He leans down to adjust a control and examine the readings.
There’s a strangled sound. Spock feels an acute sensation prickling at the edge of his peripheral.
Spock gives a discrete glance behind him. The captain is openly staring.
“Captain,” Spock mutters.
The captain starts abruptly in his seat. He flushes red from his face all the way down to his neck and turns back to face the bridge.
Two point seven eight minutes pass before Spock realizes the captain’s gaze is being drawn towards him again. Spock straightens to walk up and confront him, but the captain refuses to make eye contact. “Captain,” Spock says sternly.
The captain puts his face in his hands. “Oh god, no. Your voice - please. Don't. You're making it worse, Commander.” He is flushing even darker.
Spock sees the captain hunched over in his seat, crossing his legs, and is struck with a moment of clarity.
He fights to maintain a neutral expression. “Perhaps it would be best for me to switch to the beta shift until this situation is resolved.”
The captain closes his eyes. “Agreed.”
Spock is studying the readings of a fascinating new vegetal specimen in the empty lab when he hears footsteps approaching him. “Commander Spock?”
Spock looks up at the voice. “Yes. Proceed, Ensign.”
“The database is not letting me access information regarding anything Class K planet classification.” She holds out a PADD, which Spock inspects. The ensign is correct. There appears to be an error in the UI programming.
“It must have occurred during the recent system update. I will restore the malfunction in the database tonight.”
“That's great!” The ensign looks particularly relieved. “I have to say, it's a lot easier to approach you since you're in his body. It's easier to talk to him than to you -” She immediately backtracks. “Oh, oh dear. Apologies, Commander Spock.”
“Vulcans do not feel offense,” Spock says flatly. “Is there anything else you require, Ensign?”
“N-no,” the young ensign squeaks before hurrying away. The lab is solitary once more.
Spock cannot dislodge the turbulent dissatisfaction swirling inside him.
He returns his attention to the scanner and is so preoccupied with his distracting thoughts that by the time he senses another presence behind him, he realizes he has hardly made any progress.
Spock looks up. “Captain.”
“Commander,” the captain greets him with a familiar smile. “I've been looking for you.”
“What is it that you require?” Even as the words leave his mouth, Spock cannot help judging the cadence and tone. The words sound bad-tempered, and not in an affectionate manner like Doctor McCoy's. How has he not noticed this for so long?
The captain does not seem to notice his internal distress, or the irritable tone. “I’ve finished outlining the monthly briefing to present to Starfleet Admiralty. Wanna check that for me?”
Spock immediately holds his hand out. “It would be ideal to not create another instance of intergalactic outrage.” Spock recoils internally at the statement. It could easily be interpreted as an insult.
Jim just grins as he hands over the PADD. “What would we do without you, Mr. Spock?”
“It seems the other Spock would be more than a satisfactory substitute,” Spock mutters, jabbing at the PADD with more force than necessary.
The captain freezes. “Commander, where’s this coming from?”
Spock cannot not hide the tint of bitterness in his voice. “It is as you have said before, Captain. The crew holds a great affinity for the ambassador.”
The captain’s reply is gentle. “Spock, hey. C’mon. You know the crew likes you, too.”
“It does not appear so.”
“I think they don’t quite know how to express it yet.” The captain rubs the back of his neck. “You, ah. I’ll admit you weren’t the most open person at first. Admittedly, you had a fuckton of shit going on, but still.”
Spock hesitates. Upon reflection, the captain’s words are correct. His initial demeanor had been cold, meeting any hint of emotion with scorn. Since then, Spock has not attempted to change the ways he interacts with the crew. It is logical that they would not know Spock is now discontent with their current dynamics. “They would not be opposed to my intent to interact with them?”
“Hell, Spock, of course not. If you want some help getting started, let me know. Uhura’s mentioned she’s sad that you two stopped talking after breaking up. She’d love to spar or do tactic study with you anytime. Just talk to her. Sulu’s always down to chat about his new weird plants in his greenhouse. Or ask him how his daughter’s doing. I don't like kids but you do, right?”
Spock listens quietly as Jim chatters about Chekov’s new affinity for geology before complaining about how Scotty refuses to leave the Enterprise for shore leave, but perhaps Spock could keep him company.
Some more of the tension in Spock’s shoulders relax. “Thank you, Jim.”
Jim stops to smile bashfully at him. “Between you and me, Commander, I prefer having that logical stoicism around. Helps keep me on my toes, if you know what I mean.”
“No, I do not know,” Spock says with the faintest hint of amusement.
The alarms of the red alert blare, and the lab is shrouded in red light.
Jim sighs. “Well, that can’t be good.”
They go to the bridge where Mr. Scott is talking rapidly with another engineer.
“The whole system’s integrity has been compromised,” Mr. Scott says as he rapidly types into the computer. He looks up. “Where is Commander Spock? Why is the ambassador in Mr. Spock's uniform?”
Spock explains, “My consciousness has been temporarily swapped into the ambassador's body. Proceed, Mr. Scott. You require my assistance?”
Mr. Scott stares for one point two one seconds before rapidly regaining composure. “It appears there’s something conflicting in the bioshock support system and I don't know what. Mr. Spock, if you could come with me.” Mr. Scott begins moving in the direction of the turbolift.
“Hold on,” the captain says, pressing an arm against Spock's body with far too much familiarity. “It’s far too dangerous down there.”
“There is no time, Captain.” Spock easily navigates around the captain and joins Mr. Scott. “We will maintain ongoing communication via our communicators.”
Mr. Scott sends the circuit route to Spock's PADD. He holds up his comm. “It appears there’s something close to the auxiliary generators, Captain. Mr. Spock and I can each take one route. Approximately twenty minutes before life support begins deteriorating.”
Spock opens panels rapidly, scrutinizing the circuitry exposed to the light. He follows the wiring down the hall, closer to the generators.
Spock freezes. It may have gone unnoticed, even under a sharp Vulcan eye. Spock doubles back, obtaining a tool belt with a multimeter from a nearby storage closet. He adjusts the dials and tests the suspicious wire.
His suspicious confirmed, Spock sprints to the locked generator room, entering the pin and gaining access.
The entire time, Mr. Scott has been relaying information to the captain, who seems to have noticed Spock's lapse into silence. “Commander?”
Spock winces as a hot burst of steam erupts far too close to his face.
“Commander,” the captain says in a warning tone. “Report. Where are you?”
Spock rushes down the hallway with the communicator held to his mouth. “There is a problem with the fuse connected to bioshock filter 0023. It has not been activated. I have concluded the integrity of the circuit's electrostatic discharger has been compromised. All that is required is a simple adjustment.” It feels awkward running in the ambassador’s body, legs slightly too long and muscles lurching him forward with miscalculated strength.
Mr. Scott splutters. “One wrong move and the wiring will explode in your face!”
“Spock!” The captain’s voice is frantic.
“There is no one else who accurately knows the location of the discharger that can also reach the room in time, Captain.” Spock slides down the ladder and fumbles at the tool belt wrapped around the slim waist. “All I require is two point seven three three minutes. I shall defuse the offending mechanism.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Commander, get out of there right fucking now! That’s an order!”
Spock tucks away the comm and opens the hatch with a focused gaze. He has no time for such hysterics.
“Spock!”
The captain rushes forward, stumbling over his own feet as Spock emerges from the hatch door. Mr. Scott is somewhere behind, barking orders at frazzled ensigns who run about, attempting to minimize the lingering damage.
“You, follow me,” the captain hisses. Without waiting for Spock's reply, he grabs his elbow and drags him to a secluded corridor.
The sounds of the engineers echo in the distance.
“You had me really worried, there, Spock. Fuck.”
Spock purses his lips. “It was illogical to be concerned, Captain. I would not make an error. Furthermore, I would not have attempted to do anything that would endanger the ambassador’s body.”
The captain laughs. “Should’ve known. I’m glad you’re okay.”
He steps forward to wrap Spock in a gentle embrace. His body temperature burns into Spock’s needy flesh.
Spock belatedly pushes him away. “Jim, stop.”
Jim freezes.
“Captain,” Spock corrects himself. He is becoming slightly alarmed by the look in Jim's eyes.
The captain suddenly hunches over with a short laugh, a display of that confusing human tendency to cover shame with laughter. “Well, now I know what he’ll sounds like when he rejects me.”
“It is wrong of you to take advantage of the ambassador's body in this current state,” Spock says in reproval.
Jim snaps, “It was barely a hug, I wasn’t doing anything inappropriate!”
He falls against the wall and slides to the floor, face hidden by his knees.
“No - you’re right. I’m sorry, Spock. I just - I thought it would be my only chance to find out what it’s like to touch him.” The captain sounds so heartbroken that for a moment Spock wishes to comfort him.
All Spock can do is stand awkwardly, maintaining his distance as the captain sits on the floor trying and failing to regain his composure.
The diplomat that the Enterprise will be transporting to Starbase Twelve is late.
The captain greets him as he arrives via the transporter. Ambassador Spock is in Spock’s uniform, looking indistinguishable from the younger Vulcan, down to the tense expression. Spock himself is in Vulcan robes, calmly watching the proceedings from a little distance away.
The diplomat is distracted as the captain introduces himself. He does not take his eyes off of Spock. Spock spares a discreet glance at the ambassador in his body.
The ambassador looks very, very worried.
The captain and the diplomat finally move over to where Spock is standing off to the side. “Ambassador Spock. Fancy seeing you again here,” the diplomat says airily.
Spock chooses to feign recognition. He dips his head once.
“You are already acquainted?” the captain asks. He seems oblivious to the discomfort radiating from Ambassador Spock in Spock’s body.
“Of course we know each other,” the diplomat says in a smooth voice. “I hope to see you again later, Ambassador Spock.” The captain and diplomat leave the transporter room, and after a barely noticeable moment of hesitation, Ambassador Spock follows, maintaining his appearance as First Officer.
He avoids eye contact with Spock as he walks past him.
Spock successfully avoids contact with the diplomat for the rest of the trip’s duration. He cannot help feeling a sense of relief when the Enterprise begins the process of docking at the Starbase. He walks down the empty hallway towards the turbolift, the fabric of his robes heavy around his ankles.
“Ambassador.”
Spock takes a deep breath and contemplates the disadvantages of attempting to blatantly evade interaction. He turns around to face the diplomat.
“I’ve been thinking about you ever since you left our planet, Ambassador.” The diplomat tugs at his tunic. “We have some time. Would you be interested in another round before I leave?” He begins to undo his belt.
“Excuse me?” Spock cannot contain his shock. “Here?”
“You shed your garments easily enough in my unlocked office. Anyone could have walked in at a moment’s notice.” The diplomat reaches to stroke up Spock’s thigh. “You were perfect. So receptive to my touch.”
Spock slaps the hand away. “Remove your hands at once.” He is dismayed by the gross intrusion upon the ambassador’s body.
“That's how you're gonna play?” The diplomat manages to grab his hand this time. The memories flow through their contact, intense and unbidden. Spock’s eyes fly wide open. He does not move to dislodge the grip this time, frantically sifting deeper into the images.
He sees Ambassador Spock unclothed and vulnerable in an office. . . in a public square. . .
What he sees makes him want to vomit.
The diplomat seems to take the sudden docility as acceptance. He moves closer again. Spock backs up so fast the hard wall slams into his back. The pain stings. “Ambassador, I will not ask again. If you touch me once more, I will call security.”
The diplomat curses and spits at Spock. “You were fun before. Now you’re just a tightass little bitch.” He stomps away, leaving Spock alone in the hallway.
Spock releases his grip on his comm and straightens his robes. With a dark expression and determined gait, he exits the hallway. Ambassador Spock has been hiding his endeavors expertly, but the gravity of his situation has been fully revealed to Spock. He cannot keep quiet about this any longer.
Spock finds Jim in his private quarters, sitting on the bed in his black undershirt reading his PADD.
“Captain, lock the doors. I have discovered something I must inform you about immediately.”
Jim frowns but follows Spock’s order. Spock takes a deep, quivering breath. “Three point five oh hours before the Enterprise docked at New Vulcan to retrieve me, I discovered five different medications for STIs in the ambassador’s bathroom. The remaining dosage suggested most were recently acquired.”
Spock waits for the human to begin protesting the gross invasion of privacy, but Jim remains silent. His gaze is hard but trusting as he waits for Spock to continue.
“These pills cannot be replicated, but they can be purchased at a local pharmacy. I found nothing unusual of the medication itself. However I noticed the medicine was not bought from any pharmacy. The branding indicated the medication was provided by Starfleet.”
“Starfleet?” Jim frowned. “The ambassador said he’s not affiliated with Starfleet anymore. He told us a while ago.”
“Starfleet-grade medications such as this one are highly limited and nearly impossible to obtain from external sources. The only feasible option is that the ambassador received the medication directly from Starfleet.”
“Spock wouldn’t lie to us,” Jim says, broken. “He wouldn’t lie to me. Would he?”
Spock braces himself. “The diplomat that we just transported to Starbase Twelve - his actions suggested that he and the ambassador were involved in exchanges of a sexual nature.”
Spock closes his eyes. “I had already begun to hypothesize this when the diplomat first attempted to speak to the ambassador’s body in the transporter room. Right before the diplomat departed, he made an advance upon me. I was able to read his mind and confirm my suspicions to be true. However, I - I made the mistake of assuming the copulation was consensual.”
Jim makes a choking sort of noise.
“The number of STIs contracted leads me to believe these non-consensual exchanges have extended beyond the single diplomat. I am already aware of at least one such encounter, because it exists in the diplomat's memories.”
Spock trails off. Jim is still in horror. “Spock, what exactly happened to the ambassador?”
Spock avoids answering the question. “Based on this information, it is logical to conclude Starfleet has been trading the ambassador's body for negotiations. The situation with the diplomat was high-risk with costly repercussions for failure to comply. The other negotiations undoubtedly must have held similar conditions.”
Without bothering to put on his uniform shirt, Jim exits his quarters. Spock follows closely behind as they travel down the corridors to the guest rooms. Spock can faintly hear an ongoing voice call through the door.
Jim hesitates. “What’s he saying?”
“The ambassador is becoming increasingly frustrated,” Spock relays.
“I can’t believe that bastard.” Jim’s voice trembles as he pulls up the door’s override controls.
“Jim,” Spock begins, but the captain has already unlocked the door and barged into the ambassador’s quarters.
Spock’s body looks up in surprise from the bed where he sits, hand clenched around a comm.
Spock has never seen the captain so viscerally angry before. “Late night call, Ambassador? It wasn't Starfleet by any chance?”
The ambassador hesitates a moment too long. The silence is as loud as a vocal confession.
Jim’s voice breaks. “Spock!”
The ambassador snaps the comm closed and turns on Spock. “I specifically asked you not to reveal anything to him,” he says with venom in his tone. “You are overstepping your boundaries and I am disappointed.” In Spock’s younger body, he appears more petulant and desperate than intimidating. Regardless, Spock feels acutely as if he has failed.
“Nope,” Jim interrupts. “We were talking about you, not him. You were never worried about that mind swap shit on New Vulcan, were you? You just wanted to avoid letting anyone know what's going on.”
He steps closer to Spock’s body, which stares back defiantly. “Ambassador, you best tell us right now why the hell you’ve been fucking around without protection or any common sense for your well-being.”
The ambassador’s words are icy. “Forgive me, Captain, but I do not believe you are entitled to a response. You are acting in a manner that would suggest otherwise.” His voice does not waver. “The exchanges I was involved in were consensual and you are acting out of turn.”
Spock finds his voice. “Captain, do not believe him.”
The ambassador’s voice is scathing as he rebukes Spock in Vulcan. “Silence, younger one.”
Spock forces himself to ignore his elder counterpart, looking at the captain with desperation. “Jim, the ambassador was forced to masturbate in front of a crowd before servicing them all.”
Jim and the ambassador freeze in shock.
Spock cannot keep the pain out of his voice as he looks back at his counterpart. “Ambassador, the diplomat cornered your body on this ship before he left. I was subject to his memories. You cannot tell me the expression you had when you kneeled in front of him was one of a fully consenting individual.”
Ambassador Spock looks down. There's no reply.
Jim’s voice is tight with distress. “Ambassador, what the hell is going on? You said you weren’t affiliated with Starfleet anymore.”
The ambassador's voice is wooden. “I was not, for the two hours I received to relay the message to those that had to be diverted.”
Jim lets out a huff of laughter, of exasperation. “Vulcans never lie, huh?”
“I am doing what is necessary.” The ambassador is glaring again. “Starfleet requires the assistance of individuals to carry out dangerous negotiations. I never belonged to this universe. My age is advanced. Without a bondmate, my libido has grown troublesome. These trades are - sufficient in satisfying my carnal urges. It was a logical choice.”
Jim snaps. “Do you really think so little of yourself that you'll spread your legs for anyone that so much as looks at you?”
The ambassador flinches.
“Jim,” Spock warns, knowing it is too late.
The ambassador curls on his side, facing away from them. “Leave, both of you. I will not stand to listen to this any longer.”
Jim makes a frustrated sound. Spock grabs Jim’s arm and pulls him out of the room.
“Spock, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Fucking let go of me!”
Spock keeps walking. He does release his grasp until they have returned to his own personal quarters. The smell of calming incense permeates the air. “Please take a deep breath and think, Captain. Neither of you will solve anything in your current states.”
Jim flings off Spock’s grip. “How could you be so fucking calm knowing what he's been through for the last three fucking years?”
“Jim,” Spock warns quietly. “Control your temper.”
Jim tries to take a deep breath. He looks at Spock and his face collapses.
“God. I'm sorry, Spock. It's not you, it's the body you’re in.” Jim falls onto the desk chair, head in hands. “Oh god. I love him. I’m scared of losing him, Spock. I don't care who he's choosing, as long as he's happy and safe. But he isn't. Fuck. I don’t know what to do.”
“Captain,” Spock begins. He stops upon seeing the smallest shake of the head. “Captain,” Spock repeats, with a sinking sensation deep within him that it will be the last time he ever calls Jim by that title.
Jim seems to notice Spock's shift in attitude. His voice is soft. “You understand, right, Mr. Spock? I can't work for Starfleet anymore, knowing they've done this to him. To anyone.”
Spock lowers his head. “I understand, Jim. However - the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one. My work with Starfleet is not complete. I choose to remain here.”
The captain’s eyes are red and irritated, but there is no regret in his voice as he stands in the middle of Spock’s quarters and formally relinquishes his title and position to Spock.
Spock is unable to conceal his surprise when Ambassador Spock requests entry into his quarters.
The ambassador avoids eye contact as he stands in front of Spock, who is seated on the bed. The ambassador's Vulcan is gentle and accented from Spock's different mouth. “I apologize, younger one.”
Spock looks helplessly at the ambassador. “Why have you been doing this? You are not expendable. If Starfleet is in any way coercing you, you must inform us immediately.”
The ambassador lets his head drop. “It is not quite so simple, younger one. It would be easy to say the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one. It is true that the exchanges saved many lives. However, I agreed to this because the method appeared effective in providing me temporary relief from my desire. And then, despite - despite the pain, I could not find it within me to quit.”
“Ambassador,” Spock says quietly. “You had the option to perform or receive services from many places in which sex work is legal and conducted in a safe and consensual manner. Therefore Jim and I cannot help but be concerned as you compromise yourself in this manner.”
The ambassador closes his eyes. “Oh, Jim. The captain was never supposed to know of this.”
Spock nearly flinches at hearing Jim's former title. “The Capt - Jim has decided to resign immediately.”
The ambassador is stunned. “What? No. No, this is all wrong, he cannot do this.” He begins to move towards the exit. “I must convince him.”
“Of what, Ambassador?” Spock's bitter words cause the ambassador to halt. “Convince him to stay with an organization that has betrayed his morals and trust?“
The ambassador hesitates. “His destiny is to be among the stars. It is where he belongs.”
Spock moves closer. “Forgive me for being blunt, but you have seen with your own eyes. This world is not your own, and this Jim is not the one you have known. This Jim has always been most at peace with his inner demons after spending time with you.”
There is silence.
“I upset him greatly with my choices,” the ambassador says weakly. “It would be logical for him to no longer desire me.”
Spock frowns. “Can you not see? It was because he cares deeply for you.”
The ambassador’s chest heaves. “Younger one - I cannot stand this body of yours.” He looks at Spock, desperation in his eyes. “In my reality, up until now, I could dismiss my feelings for his counterpart, for him, as fleeting lust with no true depth or meaning. I could live in denial, as illogical as it was. To feel love without the guise of lust - it is more terrifying than anything I have ever experienced.”
Spock says simply, “You can no longer live in denial. The knowledge has been made to you.”
The ambassador pauses. “Yes. . . you’re right. I apologize for worrying you both. I will worry you no longer.”
Spock feels an immense sensation of relief. “You will not continue this self-destructive behavior?”
“I will not continue. I shall immediately tender my resignation from Starfleet along with Jim's.” Ambassador Spock stands up, and it seems a great burden has been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you, younger one. I will speak with him now.”
Spock tilts his head. “I do not mind my body being utilized for platonic purposes, however I request you restrain yourselves.”
Ambassador Spock laughs. “I shall keep that in mind.”
Spock slowly wakes.
He stares at Jim's snoring face.
Thankfully they are lying apart from each other, but their arms are draped possessively over each other's torsos. Judging from their postures, Spock assumes the captain and Ambassador have finally resolved their conflicts.
For a moment Spock doesn't move. He lies still, reveling in the peace of his own body, free of nagging distractions.
The red alert alarms blare.
Spock nearly tumbles out of bed before straightening up. Jim sleepily reaches for him. “Sp'k?” he mutters.
“Capt- Mr. Kirk.”
Jim grimaces, not opening his eyes. “. . . Spock?”
“Time is of the essence, Mr. Kirk. You may no longer be captain but I require your assistance.”
Jim groans.
“Jim.” Spock raises an eyebrow. “If you have not noticed, I have returned to my body. It is logical to assume the same thing has occurred to the ambassador. The sooner this development is sorted, the sooner you will be reunited with him.”
The statement is extremely effective in getting Jim out of the bed.
Everyone stands on the bridge, exhausted and still in their sleep wear.
Sulu is the first to break the silence. “That took way longer than expected.”
Spock thinks of the lengthy Captain's log that will need to be recorded, containing information regarding a recently erupted nacelle, Andorians, and an oversized sentient eggplant.
Spock suppresses a sigh.
Jim and Ambassador Spock are completely oblivious to their surroundings as they stare at each other. They are beginning to make the other crew members uncomfortable with their prolonged eye contact. The only individual that appears fascinated by the exchange is Chekov.
Spock coughs. “Mr. Kirk.”
Jim's voice is unsteady with unrestrained want. “We will be in my quarters. Please excuse us.” He moves with the ambassador in tandem into the turbolift.
“Use protection,” McCoy hollers after them. “Jim, if I find out you - they're already gone. God, why do I even bother?” Spock stares in surprise, unaware that the doctor had been informed of the ambassador's state.
Sulu gives Spock a sympathetic look. “Wanna crash at my place?”
“That is very generous of you to offer, Mr. Sulu. I accept.” Spock will unquestionably maintain a far distance from his room and the adjacent quarters tonight.
Two days pass before the former captain of the Enterprise finally appears on the bridge. He is clothed in casual Earth wear and has a broad smile on his face.
Jim gives Spock a cheery salute before gesturing at him. “Looks good on you, Captain.”
Spock returns his greeting in a more subdued fashion. He is already wearing Command yellow. Wearing the new color feels as alien as residing in a different body.
“You are well?” Spock inquires. “And the ambassador?”
Jim's smile shifts, almost shy. “Still asleep. Totally worth the wait.”
“Indeed,” Spock says dryly. “I appreciate you restraining yourself until my body was returned to me.”
“And I don’t appreciate that you couldn’t restrain yourselves a little more,” McCoy scowls, materializing from seemingly nowhere. He holds a medical tricorder and scans Jim’s body. “Do you need a full examination?”
Jim laughs. “We took proper precautions, Doctor McCoy. Happy?”
“I'll be happy when you stop doing ridiculous shit that makes my blood pressure suffer.” The doctor pauses, his expression turning melancholy.
Jim's expression also becomes subdued. His official resignation from Starfleet had been quiet and efficient, just as he desired. Eventually the media would learn of the development and become a nuisance, but for now the crew has time to adjust to the transition.
As Spock suspected, Doctor McCoy had spoken with Jim and the ambassador shortly after they concluded their own private conversation. McCoy had decided to wait until the ambassador was back in his own body before applying any medical procedures.
McCoy is speaking again. “When do you think the ambassador will be up? The medication might be sufficient but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Huh, dunno. Might be a while.” Jim smirks. “We might’ve gotten a tiny bit overzealous.”
“Uh huh. Tiny. Sure.” McCoy lowers the tricorder, his voice suddenly soft. “What’re you planning to do now? I always imagined you'd be doing your bullshit shenanigans as one of Starfleet's finest captains until the day you keeled over.”
Jim smiles faintly and talks about his application for a position in the engineering department of a company unaffiliated with Starfleet. Spock sits in the captain’s chair, listening to the enthusiastic rise and fall of Jim’s voice.
“But I won’t start too soon - it'll be nice to enjoy life as a new civilian for a little while. Ambassador Spock and I are planning a road trip on Earth before we go to his place on New Vulcan. It's gonna be great. We're gonna have so much sex. Have I told you? Mind meld sex is fucking ridiculous.”
“Forgive me if I request you spare me the details,” Spock says dryly.
Jim pats Spock's shoulder with a smirk. “Don't worry, Captain, I value our friendship too much. Besides, I already have Bones for that kinda thing.”
McCoy holds up a finger at him. “Fuck off, Jim.”
Jim just laughs. Spock doesn’t resist the tug at the corners of his own mouth.