Libiamo!

He was smiling at himself in the bathroom mirror.

Unbelievable.

Fascinating.

He reached for his comb without looking down, and jammed his fingers hard onto the counter top.

"Damn."

"Oh my god, did I just hear you swear?"

He flushed green and his heart leapt in his side at that voice, lazy and relaxed and so close. Smiled again as he realized that the change, deep and profound, did indeed show. What an amazing feeling. He wondered if this was a human feeling, or a vulcan feeling, or if anyone, ever, in all of history, had felt this wonderful surging... joy. Perhaps it was as unique as he was, himself. All he wanted was for it to continue, and yet he doubted his own ability to cope with the fizzy, light-headed, disorienting fountain of emotion that seemed to be burbling up through his belly and making his thoughts dance.

How did people who loved ever get anything done!

He understood, suddenly, the lover's urge to write poetry, and was momentarily paralysed by the knowledge that he understood such an illogical thing. Shaking his head, he turned away from the mirror and pulled on his underwear.

"I will be late for my meeting with the linguistics programming committee."

"Fuck them."

Spock felt another new thing, and almost uncontrollable urge to giggle. It was astonishing, how easily control was lost; and how much there was dammed up behind the wall of control, waiting to escape! He paced back to the bedroom and leaned against the wall, letting the smile have its way as he gazed at the man in his bed. Jim, in his bed. The lover in his bed. The man he loved, lounging, naked and sticky in his, Spock's, bed. "Fuck them? Are you suggesting that I practice with someone else? Was I that bad?" The giggle Spock had suppressed burst out of Kirk in a ridiculous snort.

"Poorly phrased. Call them up and tell them to... carry on without you. You were so far from bad that I was hoping for seconds."
"I believe that would be... thirds. Or perhaps fourths, if you count the aborted shower we attempted after the first episode. And, as I am the one who assigned the reprogramming and gave linguistics this deadline, it would be poor management not to appear, do you not agree?" But it was so tempting. He strolled back to the bed and sat down, feasting his eyes on the lovely stretch of tan skin. Let his hands roam and stroke, until Jim was squirming again. "Will I see you for lunch?"
"Only if we eat here, and you're on the menu."

The surge of lust overwhelmed the bubbling joy for a moment, and Spock groaned. "You destroy my control. You will turn me into a debauched satyr."

"If we're lucky. Hey, I think satyrs even had pointed ears, didn't they? God, why didn't you tell me how sexy you are last year? Think of all that wasted time."

"I wasn't ready for you last year. And if I do not leave here now, I will ruin my reputation for military decorum and punctuality." He ran a hand through the matted, dirty, nearly blond hair of his lover and smiled again. "Have you got a busy morning?"

"Nope. Inspection of the 'tween decks, and a briefing in botany. Shouldn't take more than a couple of hours. See, if you hadn't so thoughtlessly scheduled your linguistics meeting..."

"You forget that, at the time I scheduled the meeting, I had no idea I would rather be interacting directly with my captain. How is it I did not know the intensity of my feeling for you." Spock stroked the smooth chest, then rose and began to dress. "I love you. It is the first time in many years that I have experienced strong emotion and not found it distasteful. It is not, precisely, comfortable, but I think it would be much worse if I thought you did not return the feeling."

"I do." Kirk got off the bed and offered an embrace; Spock accepted it, returned it gently. "I am glad I finally worked up the nerve to ask... I mean, I know you're right. We wouldn't have done this a year ago. I wouldn 't have. I wasn't ready for any sort of commitment beyond my captaincy. I didn't figure on you being so amazing, though." He stood back and Spock marvelled at how Kirk could so easily discuss his feelings. He yearned to touch the other's thoughts, to share the bubbling, seething stream, to see if Kirk's emotion was similar to his own. "When you... when I thought you were going to be married to T'Pring, the first thing I thought was 'oh, no, I've left it too late!' So I figured I'd better stake my claim now, before someone else caught you and I was really screwed."

"Your command of idiom has always amused me. Have I mentioned that?" Spock drew on his uniform tunic, tucked it in and fastened his trousers. "Will you pass me my boots, I believe they are under the bed."

He caught the left boot, tossed underhand by Kirk, and ducked as the right boot whizzed past his ear and hit the closet door behind him. Kirk pulled on his own boxers, then sat back on the floor, and watched as Spock finished dressing. Spock found him unbelievably appealing, and wanted nothing more than to undress again and bend his captain over the edge of the bed...

"Spock? Penny for your thoughts?"

"Mmmmm. I was thinking about lunchtime, and exactly how I would like to go about our pleasure."

"Oh." Kirk flushed crimson. "Good, then. Uh... I'll probably be in my quarters, but page me, will you? When your meeting is over? If I'm not in my quarters?"

It was so unlike Jim to end his phrases as questions, instead of orders. Spock found a fresh smile on his face. He stood up and crossed to Jim, then crouched and kissed the swollen lips. "Yes. I will." He was rewarded by a brilliant smile.

"Good. See you then."

Spock strode into Linguistics three minutes later, exactly on time. Not smiling, but rigidly suppressing a most illogical urge to whistle.

**

"I just spent 12 hours making love to my first officer. Good god, I think I just married Spock!" He looked at himself in the mirror, wondering how such a fundamental change could occur and leave no marks. Okay, a few marks. He noticed that his lips were puffy, and there was a light rash on his throat that made him remember the vulcan's heavy beard. And a distinct bite mark on his shoulder... That thought led to the memory of Spock's black eyes closing as his face contorted with the ecstasy of their shared orgasms....

"Holy shit, I am *bad* hooked." He grinned at his reflection and turned away, peeling the boxers off again and setting the shower for cool. CPO Dahnraj would be expecting him for the inspection of the enlisted quarters, he'd best hurry. The enlisted folk not on duty would all be waiting too, nervous, most of them having spent the night scrubbing their showers with toothbrushes or some damned thing... he realized he was whistling, and forced himself into the shower, letting out a yell at the sensation of cool water on his sex-sensitized skin.

"Sickbay to Captain Kirk."

"God damn it!" He leapt out of the shower and dripped over to the wall comm. "Kirk here."

"Jim, I need a few minutes this morning. I've got the new arterial plaque vaccine in and reviewed the protocol, and you're my prime candidate. There' s a 30 minute safety built in, though you shouldn't react. Better safe than sorry though, so bring a book."

"Bones, your timing is impeccable. I was just getting into the shower."

Silence greeted that remark, and Kirk began to blush as he realized that McCoy, in his office, was looking at the comm display and trying to imagine exactly why Kirk was showering in Spock's quarters. He cleared his throat. "Why the hell am I the prime candidate?"

"You eat too much meat. You know I've flushed your arteries once this year already. At that rate, I don't give you forty more years before a surgical procedure."

"Another great argument from the vegetarians. All right, I'll see you in a couple of hours; I'm due for an inspection on deck 9. Kirk out."

He padded back to the shower and stifled a gasp as he got under the chilling spray. McCoy, of course, would be the first one to figure it out. Might as well just tell him. Spock wouldn't mind; in fact, Spock would probably appreciate being present, just for the memory of McCoy's face when the announcement was made.

"Bones, Spock and I have decided to take up house-keeping." He chuckled and began to soap his hair. "Len, sit down, this is going to come as a shock. Spock and I are getting hitched. Hmmmm, no. Bones, I need some advice. I haven't had a male lover in years, and Spock is awfully big..."

He began to laugh again, then found a tune rambling through his head from his childhood. Winona had sung it when she'd felt good. Guitar, drums... a simple back-beat in four-four time...

"Mama pajama rolled outta bed and she ran to the police station When Papa found out he began to shout, and started the investigation."

Hmmm. He rinsed his hair and tried to remember what was so light-hearted about that song, that Mom had loved it so much. Oh, yeah! "I'm on my way, I don't know where I'm going, I'm on my way, I'm taking my time but I don't know where..." something about being freed from an intolerable burden... Of course! "Seein' me and Julio down by the schoolyard!" One of the old gay rights anthems! Lots of off-key whistling. It must have been hell to live in such confused times, people actually trying to regulate human sexuality!

What an asinine concept! Jim shook his head wildly, enjoying the purity of dizziness as the water flew around him. "Murphy's doughnuts, I'm in love with Spock!" He caught the wall to steady himself, and reached to turn off the water. Definitely on his way to something, he decided. Or newly arrived at somewhere. He wondered if it was physically possible for a human being to burst.

Five minutes later he was strolling back to his own quarters for a clean uniform. He didn't even realize he was whistling the ancient tune aloud.

**

Uhura cocked her head and watched as her superior officer gathered padds and papers together. The rest of the linguistics team had departed, but as usual Spock had remained seated. He always completely organized his work before moving on to the next thing.

The funny thing was, he was stacking Uhura's padds among his own.

"Mr. Spock... may I ask a rather personal question?"

He looked up, eyes wide, and blinked at her. "You may ask. I may withhold an answer, if I find the question inappropriate."

"Are you worried about anything, sir? More than normally worried, I mean?"

Uhura watched as his face changed. She scolded herself at her first impression; that Mr. Spock had been about to smile at her. He settled back in his chair and shook his head.

"I am rarely worried, Ms. Uhura. I am, currently, unworried. May I ask why you are concerned?"

"Well, you usually don't steal my padds. Sir."

He blinked again. Several times. Then his gaze jerked downward, to the pile in front of him, and back up to her.

He turned green. Uhura caught herself wanting to smile. She tried to remember if she had ever seen Spock so completely disarmed. "My apologies," he mumbled. "Let me sort them out."

"Apologies are illogical, Mr. Spock. It's obvious you are pre-occupied with something more important than linguistics." Fascinated, she watched his skin blanch white, then return to a deep green. Her intuition struck hard, and she took a long, deep breath. "If I didn't know better, sir, I would suspect you were pre-occupied with *some one*, rather than *some thing*."

To her shock he didn't deny it. Instead he shot a brief glance at her, and then began sorting through the padds. His tone was rueful when he replied; "I shall have to govern myself more carefully."

"Only around very perceptive people, sir. Of which people specializing in linguistics and communications rank pretty highly. It is rare to see you distracted at all. I hope she, or he, appreciates what she has."

"He." Spock did smile then, a tiny quirk of one corner of his upper lip and a force 12 beam of both black eyes. "It is a 'he'. And I believe we appreciate one another in an adequate fashion. However, I would ask you to keep your perception to yourself until such time as I am prepared... as we are prepared, to make a formal announcement."

Uhura couldn't contain the squeal of pure delight that erupted from her. She flung herself at the vulcan and enveloped him in a hug. It was better than christmas! "Oh, Mr. Spock, honey, that is so wonderful! Jim better shape up fast, you deserve the best!"

"May I enquire," he responded, and Uhura found herself being disentangled and pressed away, albeit very gently, "why you assume that I am speaking of the captain?"

"Who else? There's no one else who could begin to do you justice!" She sat back in total satisfaction. "Now, if y'all decide to make it formal, I want the job of 'maid of honour'! Promise?"

She wished she had a holo to capture the raised eyebrow and the alien response. "I was unaware that maidenhood was one of your attributes, Lieutenant."

"Figure of speech, sir."

"I see."

Oh, to be a fly on the wall of the captain's quarters, she thought. She gathered her padds, dropped a quick kiss onto Spock's surprised cheek, and waltzed out. In the corridor she realized she was whistling loudly.

**

McCoy peered through the observation window at his commanding officer and felt his brow knitting. It was a peculiar sensation, to actually feel something physically that was so graphically illustrated in idiom. "My brow is knitting," he said aloud, then smacked his forehead and turned away from the picture of Jim Kirk. Sitting quietly, reading a six month-old issue of "Scientific Federation", without a jiggle or a twitch or a frown. In fact, it appeared that Jim was smiling. And McCoy was pretty sure he was reading about the devolution of the Marquesian approach to astro-telemetry, a pseudo-scientific navigational system that was as accurate as tarot cards for telling the future. The fact that Jim hadn't actually turned the page in the 27 minutes he'd been sitting there further confused the doctor. His friend appeared to have been taken over by some calm, patient, alien energy force that pretended to know how to read.

McCoy clasped his hands and once again ran over the possible reasons for Jim 's bizarre countenance. He might be ill, but all the scans McCoy had surreptitiously run came up negative. He was on an endorphin high, but McCoy doubted he'd been jogging for the last 10 hours. If he'd been getting other exercise... but with who? There was no female on this ship that Kirk could, legally, proposition or accept proposals from. Females and Kirk, Kirk and females...

For some reason, McCoy refused to link the endorphin high with the fact that Jim had been showering in Spock's quarters. There wouldn't be, couldn't be a link there. Jim Kirk was a lot of things; tomcat came to mind, along with the words musht and rut, and even Pandarus if his ship were at stake. But pointy green ears had never held attraction for him.

Had they?

The computer chimed at him, and McCoy sighed before opening the office door. "That's it, Jim. If you haven't died by now you're not gonna. Free for lunch?"

"No, sorry." Kirk tossed the magazine aside and got up, straightening his tunic and smoothing his trousers. "So I'm good for how long?"

McCoy raised both eyebrows. "We did go over this." Kirk flushed with embarrassment.

"Sorry. I must have been thinking of something else. Remind me."

"Get a booster every 10 years, and a plaque screening at the same time. Don 't worry, I'll addend it to your medical history and you'll get an email when you're due. Dinner?"

This time he actually blushed. Not flushed, not 'coloured', plain old *blushed*. "Uh, not tonight, Bones. I have a date, actually. I'll call you tomorrow."

McCoy suddenly realized that what he'd been denying to himself was the truth; Kirk was in a rush to get to some *one*. He was exhibiting all the signs of a captain in love. There were rules about that in Fleet, and Sickbay was required to enforce them. McCoy folded his arms and shook his head. "Captain."

Halfway to the door Kirk stopped and turned. "Oh-oh. What have I done now?"

"You've fallen in love, haven't you?"

Kirk's mouth dropped open and he stared, then gave a negative jerk of his head. "Why do you say that?"

"I'm trained in spotting new lovers, Jim. You don't have to tell me who it is, but for you to sit still for over half an hour pretending to read while you daydream, it's obvious that the relationship is pretty intense and pretty new to you. Did you ever read Med-Ops chapter 12, paragraphs 14 through 17?"

Kirk turned white, then crimson, but shook his head. He began to whistle, faintly, between his teeth. An old pop tune, the doctor realized. Cute.

McCoy nodded. "I didn't think so. Persons with life-or-death authority over others shall not serve in supervisory positions during the first 10 days of a marriage, bonding, induction or emergence. You're acting like a newlywed, Jim. Do you want to talk about it, or do I just relieve you of duty for a couple of weeks and put Spock in charge?"

Kirk's reaction hit McCoy right in the belly. He jerked all over, then staggered, turned white, and gave a bark of laughter. "That wouldn't help, Bones," he replied, then began to laugh. Hard, arms wrapped around his chest. "I'm sure Spock is already considering relieving himself from duty..."

"...per MedOps 12,14 through 17," came the grave baritone. Spock peered around the corner and nodded toward McCoy. Leonard McCoy felt his whole world tilt, shift, and coalesce into something new and wonderful. He realized he was grinning.

There was a god.

"I am always happy to oblige under that section," he managed, after a moment. "I hope this is a new as it appears." He was worried that the boys had managed to hide their relationship for some time; the powers that be needed to know when the structure of command changed, for safety and for policy. But the shy, needy, loving looks that the pair exchanged relaxed him. "Never mind. Get out of here. Make an announcement soon though, will you. You're both officially off duty... until ten days from this morning?"

"That would fulfil the regulatory requirement."

"Except for red alert, right?"

"Nope. In face, you are expressly forbidden to take command, Captain Lovebird." He enjoyed the exchange of looks more than anything in the last year. "Now get out of here, both of you. And if you do decide to make it official, I wanna be best man."

"Pardon?"

"Never mind, Spock," Kirk replied. "Let's get out of here. See you in a week, Bones."

"You don't have to act like you're in quarantine!" McCoy spluttered.

But Kirk had the last word. "What the hell use is the regulation if we don' t get some privacy out of it? Hell, Bones, I've been lusting after that narrow ass for a year or more. Now I get to officially enjoy it, you think I'm gonna miss *you* for 10 days? Uh-uh. No way."

McCoy watched them leave, the picture of contained excitement and perfect decorum; like royalty at an embassy function. He made a quick mental note to look up vulcan mental practices between married couples, then turned toward his office. He'd beam a bottle of champagne to Kirk's quarters, and one to Spock's, to be sure they got it immediately.

He heard himself whistling, and found he was also grinning from ear to ear.

He poured himself a huge class of corn whiskey and raised it toward the ceiling.

"Libiamo! Friends and lovers find happiness in wine! Lord, I'd love to see the Vulcan finding happiness in wine! Computer, play me some Verdi!" He pursed his lips and let the song shout out to his empty sickbay.