Disclaimer: The rights to Star Trek belong to Gene Roddenberry, and NuTrek belongs to J.J. Abrams, Orci, and Kurtzman.
A/N: Happy K/S Day or Anniversary of Amok Time day! Did this little diddy in honor of it.
For The Love Of A Bondmate
Jim and Spock were relaxing in their shared quarters after a long day of work on the Enterprise. They had just finished a game of chess (Spock won) and were lounging on their bed.
"Jim, do you know what day today is?" The Vulcan asked.
"Wednesday," was smart-aleck answer.
Spock raised his right eyebrow.
"In terms of our relationship."
A panicked look crossed the captain's face. He never was very good with dates, especially when he couldn't cheat and ask the computer. So he tried the process of elimination.
"Uh… it's not our bonding anniversary. It's not the anniversary of our first date." Much to his regret, Jim came up with a big blank. "You got me - what is it?"
"It is five years to the day since the day I tried to choke you on the bridge."
"Oh." Spock would keep track of something like that. "Has it really been that long?" Jim gazed fondly at his Vulcan. "I fell hard for you that day."
"So I gathered." Spock's mischievous gleam hid beneath long, dark lashes. "In fact, I had been meaning to show you something of mine for some time, now. I have a strong suspicion that you will find it rather enlightening. This is as good an occasion as any to share it."
"Please!" Jim asked, ever eager.
Complying, the Vulcan pulled up an encrypted file on his PADD, unlocked it, and handed it to his adun. It only took a second or two before Kirk recognized it for what it was.
"Spock, is this…" His husband stared at him in amazement, his mouth agape.
"But how did it survive?" Jim turned his inquisitive blue eyes on his mate.
"One of my father's servants fortunately saved all of our clan's files before he evacuated and the planet was destroyed," Spock explained. "I wrote this particular entry when I was on the cusp of adolescence. I am curious to know what you think of it."
He scooted closer, warming his bondmate as Jim began to read silently.
Personal Log, Stardate 2247.09
The incidents of this day prove that there is little improvement in my social status at school. The chosen topic for today's teasing was a novel one; in fact I believe I preferred it over any insults to my parents. However, I cannot deny that, deep inside, their malicious words touched my hidden human side. While I did not outwardly react to their taunts, I very much wished to lash out against those who would mock the fact that I had not been bonded to another at the age of seven, as is custom. While my mother insists this is because she wants me to choose my own mate, I sometimes wonder if my classmates are correct, that no one wanted their daughter or son to bond with a Vulcan-human hybrid.
I sometimes envy my bonded peers; they have an anchoring presence in their minds which enhances their ability to focus and meditate. I, on the other hand, have a dark, empty void - just begging to be filled by a mate that I fear I will never have. Whenever I am particularly lonely, I visit my mother and she takes me in her arms and holds me close. However, I am afraid this childish behavior of mine cannot continue much longer. I have vowed to stop it all together by my next birth day. I hope my mother is not disappointed in my action, but it must be done. It is what he expects.
He, my father, the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth, impresses a strict work ethic upon me. It is his wish that I follow in his footsteps and become a revered scientist. While I am indeed rather fascinated by this field, the thought of attending the VSA causes my stomach to clench. Staying on Vulcan and being treated as a second-class citizen does not appeal to me in the slightest. Perhaps I will find a research position elsewhere, possibly on Earth, my mother's home planet. I know she would be happy if I embraced more of my human heritage.
Once, I overheard my mother tell my father she would not mind if I bonded with a human. I must say, I do not foresee that occurring. Except for my mother, humans are much too illogical for my taste. They do not care to suppress their emotions. If I bonded to one, being in his or her presence would surely give me a headache. Also, humans are often given to frivolity. I would find their gifts to be excessive, and their promises to be false until proven true. Not to mention the ridiculous stories I have heard about their mating practices – some of their mildly creative ideas cause me to blush at the indecency of it all. No, if I were to choose a mate, they would be calm, intelligent, and given to logic as well as stimulating conversation. Anything more would cause a disruption in my carefully ordered routine.
In the days to come, I expect the teasing to only worsen as tensions run higher in our competition for class rank. I know I will rely on you more than ever, personal log. You will contain my innermost thoughts and feelings, secret even from my parents. There is one thing I have not dared write down, in fear of it being discovered. However, the safety precautions installed on this log are quite extensive and I am certain no one could bypass them. So I shall confess. At the risk of sounding pessimistic, I must admit that I know that I will not survive my first pon farr without a mate, and the thought brings me relief. At least I will not have to endure a lifetime of loneliness.
One final thought: If I do have a mate, I hope that their childhood is going better than mine is. I cannot imagine a worse torment than growing up as an outcast, but I could be mistaken.
S'Chn T'Gai Spock, cha Sarek
Jim finished reading the entry, and curled his body around his Vulcan in response. The captain tried to digest all that he had just read as he held his husband tight. Of course he had seen snippets here and there of Spock's childhood in their melds, and they had discussed the subject in length, but somehow reading a primary source made it seem all the more tangible. Jim knew he had to tread carefully, lest Spock put up a new wall he had just broken down.
"Spock, thanks for sharing this with me," Kirk said softly, sending him bursts of affection through their bond.
"T'hy'la," his mate said, somewhat stiffly. "I am embarrassed you had to read that."
"What? Why?" Kirk's brow furrowed. "Everyone has diary or log entries like that, where they pour out their soul and look back at it years later wondering what the hell was wrong with them."
Spock's eyebrows both rose that time.
"Or maybe that's just me," Kirk amended. "But seriously, there's no reason to feel ashamed for writing down how you felt."
"You misunderstand me." Spock's voice was flat. "I was so spoiled at the time, believing I had it difficult living as the ambassador's son on Vulcan while you had to experience the horrors of Tarsus IV."
Jim shook his head.
"We both lived our own personal version of hell."
Spock laced his fingers through Jim's.
"I suppose." The Vulcan would never admit how grateful he was that he'd found Jim before he'd had to face the indignity of dying alone in the throes of pon farr. They had turned such a disturbing event into one of joy and discovery.
"Look on the bright side – you rightly predicted that I'd give you a headache."
"True." Spock and Jim nuzzled noses, knowing that the only headaches Spock received were from melding too long during sexual congress.
"And I certainly screw up your orderly routine." Kirk said, lazily drawing circles in his Vulcan's chest hair.
"Nothing is that predictable on the Enterprise."
"You sure were wrong about your choice of bondmate, though," Jim teased before he smothered his husband with kisses. With a sigh, Spock managed to pull away. He looked Jim straight in the eye, and said with conviction,
"No, I was absolutely correct."