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Jim was eighteen when the Words appeared on the inside of his wrist.
They started as a smudge. At first, Jim thought it was oil from a car engine, or maybe ink from a paper book he had been reading. It was only after he scrubbed his skin red and it still didn’t come off that he realized he was getting his Words.
Fucking finally.
It took three days for them to come in. And when they did…
“Excuse me?!” Jim shouted, staring at his wrist. It couldn’t be right. He must be reading it wrong. He rubbed his thumb over the words again and again, wishing that they could reform to something more obvious, more distinct, more original. Just more.
“Fucking excuse me?!” he yelled again.
His mother opened the door, “Jimmy, why are you shouting? What’s wrong?”
Jim clamped on his wrist and stared up at his mother, his face a tangle of emotions.
She brightened, “Did you get your Words? Let me see!” She walked closer to him, “I told you that you were just a late bloomer. We’ll have to call your brother to let him know, too, of course. Come on, Jim –they can’t be that ba –oh. Oh.”
Excuse me
She stared at her son’s wrist, held it with her own hand so that Jim could see her Words in comparison, written down the length of her forearm (Sorry for my friend, Miss, let me buy you a drink to make up for it).
“Well,” Winona started, still staring at the Words. “I guess you’ll just have to be extra alert, then.” She dropped his hand. “Let’s call your brother, and we’ll have your favorite food for dinner. This is a big occasion, you know.”
They called Sam. Jim sat sullenly as his mother explained everything. Sam cackled at him from the other side of the computer screen.
Jim bought a watch as soon as he could to cover them up.
---
Spock was twenty one when the Words appeared on the inside of his wrist.
He hated them.
(But hate was a human emotion, and he was Vulcan, so he did not hate them at all. But if he did not hate them, then why was there a fire in his chest, and why was his brow furrowing, and why were his hands clenching, and why –)
For twenty one years, he had struggled to reign in his emotions and uphold logic. For twenty one years, he had been ridiculed and insulted for his heritage. For twenty one years, he believed that as long as he didn’t get any Words, he could establish that he belonged on Vulcan.
If he didn’t have Words, he was just like any other Vulcan.
But now there was no denying his human heritage. His emotionalism. His inferiority.
(He would have to break his bond to T’Pring. She would never have him now, not with proof that he belonged to another, not with proof that he was truly Too-Human.)
Everyone would find out. And the scorn that had receded since childhood would start up again, for all of the same reasons but with even more proof that he did not belong.
“Spock, are you okay? You’re shaking. Are you cold?”
He moved, standing ramrod straight with his hands clenched at his sides as his mother approached. She looked concerned.
He could not stop his gaze from travelling back down to his wrist. She followed his look and gasped.
“Did you get your Words?” the excitement in her tone made him cringe. He nodded and she beamed at him. “Will you let me see them?”
(Of course she would be excited, she was human and this was a human tradition and her Words were something he would never have –the clear message of I am Ambassador Sarek of the planet Vulcan –and he wasn’t jealous but it would’ve made things easier –)
He took one deep breath before extending his wrist to her. She looked at it.
“Oh, Spock. Oh, honey, that’s –”
“I must meditate,” he interrupted, not waiting for her response before striding to his room.
He sat on his bed, reassuring himself that he would meditate very soon, he just needed a moment.
Just one minute, and then he would get up and light up his incense and go to his mat.
Just thirty more seconds and he would do it.
He realized belatedly that he was shaking, and that his heart was beating faster than normal, and he couldn’t quite catch his breath.
He felt wetness on his cheeks.
And some deep (highly illogical) part of him wondered if perhaps his Words weren’t something that a stranger would one day say to him (not just something –the first thing), but were instead being said by the universe itself for bringing him to this point.
Maybe the universe itself was telling him:
Sorry
---
The first time someone said “Excuse me” to Jim before anything else, it took him a second to get excited.
“Yes?” he said, beginning to grin. (And there was some part of him that thought that ‘Yes’ would be a great Word, honestly, because if nothing else it’s at least uplifting.)
“Can you tell me how to get to the nearest transport? I think I got a little lost.”
He blinked, “Wait… are you…” then he looked down and saw the wedding band, and his heart dropped to his stomach.
He gave the directions and watched as they left.
The second time it happened, Jim got a little less excited, and somehow felt even more crushed when it wasn’t his soulmate (“No, my Words are it’s not too late. Sorry. And… good luck?”). The third time, he actively tried not to think about it. The other person said nothing about it. They weren’t his soulmate either.
Neither was the next one.
Or the next one.
Or the next one.
By the time he was twenty five and enrolling in Starfleet, it didn’t even phase him anymore. It had happened so many times, he had lost count.
It didn’t matter anyway, he told himself.
He mostly believed it, too.
---
The first time anyone ever started a sentence aimed at Spock with the word “Sorry,” he was on Earth. Eventually, he had accepted his Words, and was looking forward to meeting his soulmate on some level, but his priority was to attend Starfleet Academy and excel.
He was walking to his first class on his first day of his first semester, and perhaps that was why he got excited when Nyota Uhura’s first words to him matched the one on his wrist.
(But excitement was an emotion, and he was above that. It was just that it was so convenient that it would happen on the first day, with the first human cadet he’d interacted with. It was logical to feel pleased that it had been easy for a moment.)
She had dropped her supplies as she walked across campus, and had stooped to gather them back up.
“Do you require assistance?” he asked her.
“Sorry,” she said and Spock’s heart leapt in his side. She paused and then looked up at him, “I mean, no, I’ve got it. Sorry for being in the way. But thank you,” she stood and looked at him. “What’s your name?”
“Spock. And yours?”
“Nyota Uhura,” she replied. And then she held her hand up in the ta’al, “Live long and prosper,” and he saw her wrist where her sleeve slipped down.
Let me help
She was not his soulmate.
It had been so close –so similar. Do you require assistance versus let me help. It was so close –the difference between a formal Vulcan and regular human. Spock felt –just a little bit –like he had been struck.
He lifted his hand, the one without his Words, “Peace and long life.”
“Where are you heading? Maybe we could walk to class?”
Spock nodded, “That would be acceptable.” He walked with her.
He quickly learned that humans apologize much more often than Vulcans do. The second time it happened, he noticed similar reactions within himself, and attempted to meditate them away. The third time, he forced himself to view the world –and his interactions therein –logically.
Humans were prone to apologizing –even when the situation did not call for an apology. He could not afford to react every single time. It was exhausting. He would have to push it from his mind, and focus on his schooling.
So he did.
Eventually, it became normal for him, and he stopped focusing on it so much, and barely noticed it when people said sorry.
---
One.
Bones would yell at him if he didn’t eat, so Jim just needed to grab a lunch before running to the other side of campus for a lab. He barely had time for this, but it really was his own fault for not packing something for himself earlier.
He needed to stock up on some snacks to keep in his backpack, so he grabbed a banana. A sandwich would make a fine lunch (Bones couldn’t be angry at a sandwich), but what other snacks could he keep in his bag?
The apples had been right by the bananas, and he really only needed to lean over a little bit to grab –
As he turned, he bumped into someone, just enough that he jumped back, startled. He hadn’t realized anyone was so close to him.
“Sorry,” he said, barely looking at the guy.
The other guy –Jim noticed the pointed ears, the straight eyebrows –the Vulcan, nodded and said, “Excuse me,” before sidestepping Jim to also take an apple.
Jim went to make himself a sandwich, and then ran across campus to make it to his lab.
(And Bones did yell at him, of course, but affectionately.)
---
Two.
Spock had to find a very specific data chip to upload to his padd for the class he was assisting with tomorrow. Usually, he would not be searching for resources with the deadline so close (usually, he would have finished it weeks ago) but the professor had a family emergency, and had not left Spock any outline.
So he was searching for a specific data chip, for a class tomorrow, per the professor’s instruction, and the library was organized completely illogically, and Spock did not approve.
(He was not experiencing irritation, because that would be illogical.)
Finally, he found the section he needed. The aisle the chip was supposedly located on was occupied by a single person.
His search took him closer and closer to this person.
Finally, he realized this person was standing directly in front of the item he needed.
“Excuse me,” he said.
The person glanced at him and then stepped aside, “Sorry.”
Spock took the data chip, nodded to the person (who was no longer looking at him), and left.
He had a class to prepare for.
---
Three.
Fuck.
He was gonna be late. He was gonna be really late. He had promised –sworn, even –that he would be on time for this, and Gaila was gonna kill him.
Maybe, if he was lucky, her performance (her final performance of the show she created goddammit) had started late. Or maybe she hadn’t noticed his absence yet, and he could slip in and pretend he’d been there the whole time.
He sprinted.
And because that’s just his fucking luck, he ran into someone. Literally.
Jim hit the ground pretty hard, but bounced up quickly, gathering the guy’s padds and whatever else had flown out of his hands when Jim crashed into him.
“Sorry!” Jim exclaimed, trying to give back the guy’s stuff, but also trying to flee the scene. He was breathing hard. “Fuck, I’m sorry. God, you fucking idiot –”
“Excuse me?”
Jim looked at the guy –the Vulcan, god, again –as he raised an eyebrow in response.
“Not you,” Jim said hurriedly, thrusting items back into the Vulcan’s hands, being careful not to touch, not to make this situation even worse, “I was talking to myself. Well, the last part, the first part was to you. Fuck, sorry, I gotta go –I’m late.”
The Vulcan stared. Jim took off running again.
When he arrived, he found they had held the show for him. Jim bought Gaila drinks afterwards to show his gratitude.
---
Four.
The cadet Spock was speaking to was irritating.
(Though, again, that would be a human emotion, and he could not allow himself to get wrapped up in human emotions. He needed to maintain his logic in the face of illogic.)
(He could also recognize that it was infuriating.)
“But,” the cadet was saying, “Why would I work on the group project when you’re in it? Vulcans like doing work. I’m just helping you out, man.”
Spock grit his teeth.
“While your perception may be that Vulcans enjoy working, I can assure you that particular generalization is inaccurate. Vulcans have a higher standard for precision and accuracy, as well as an expectation of a robust education. The fact that you are unwilling to do your portion of the work because I am Vulcan is not helping me and is, rather, showing –”
He would have continued, except someone had come from the side and punched the cadet in the face.
The cadet fell to the ground immediately.
“That’s what you get, you fucking asshole,” the person was shouting. He had golden hair. “Don’t ever come near Gaila again, do you hear me?!”
The cadet on the ground groaned.
“Excuse me,” Spock started, staring at the person who interrupted him. He honestly could not think of what else to say.
“Sorry,” the person said, finally looking at Spock. He shook out his hand, as if he had hurt himself in hurting the first cadet.
Spock raised an eyebrow, “Is it really me you should be apologizing to?”
The man chuckled, “I’m apologizing for interrupting you –I caught the tail end of your speech and you were on a roll. I’m not gonna apologize to him,” he said, gesturing down at the cadet. “He groped my friend because she’s an Orion. Claimed he couldn’t help himself.”
Spock looked back down at the cadet, “He seems to have many preconceived notions of different races based on xenophobic stereotypes that he uses for his own gain. I believe I will report him for disciplinary action. Your friend should as well, if she is comfortable doing so.”
The golden man smiled, “I’ll pass it on,” he said. “Thanks.”
He walked away. Spock spared one last look at the cadet before leaving for the student conduct office.
The cadet on the ground groaned, and stayed there.
---
Five.
Jim couldn’t decide what he wanted to drink.
He stared at the menu on the screen, near incomprehension. Why was there so much to choose from? He didn’t even know what size he wanted –let alone if he wanted something sweet or bitter. They even had an option that was spicy. Did he want caffeine or not?
Vaguely, he remembered that he had only slept three hours last night. It probably wasn’t helping his decision-making abilities.
Caffeine was necessary.
Probably a large.
He realized belatedly that he was standing damn near the middle of the store –right in the way of anyone who wanted to get to the counter. He cursed slightly and shifted closer to the wall –
–and bumped right into someone who had been standing in his blind spot.
“Sorry,” he immediately apologized, stumbling slightly.
“Excuse me,” the other person murmured while reaching out a hand to steady Jim.
When Jim looked up, smiling slightly, he was looking right in the face of a Vulcan, who was resolutely not smiling at all.
“Sorry,” Jim repeated, with more inflection this time, pulling away from the other man’s space –Vulcans like personal space. “I didn’t see you there.”
“It is of no consequence,” the Vulcan said. And Jim blinked.
“Didn’t I talk to you before? Like a month ago? I punched that asshole Gary in the face right in front of you? He got expelled, you know.”
The Vulcan nodded, “You are indeed correct.”
Jim couldn’t tell if he was saying Jim was correct that he was the guy Jim had talked to before, or if he was correct that Gary got expelled. Jim grinned anyway, “There aren’t that many Vulcans in Starfleet, you know. You’re kinda hard to miss.”
“Indeed,” the Vulcan agreed.
Jim took in a breath, and then stepped aside. “Sorry again for running into you. You can order if you want, I’m still looking.”
The Vulcan nodded again, and then stepped up to the counter. Jim watched him order, but did not attempt to speak with him again afterwards. The Vulcan didn’t seem interested in prolonged conversation (which made sense, honestly) and Jim didn’t want to irritate him.
It was only after the Vulcan left the shop with his order that Jim realized he never introduced himself, or got the Vulcan’s name.
Jim frowned. Damn sleep deprivation. He was off his game.
Next time, he’d be sure to get it. (As if a next time would actually happen.)
On second thought, he could probably find the Vulcan in the Academy’s systems easily enough. It wasn’t like he was lying that there weren’t many Vulcans in Starfleet.
With the conviction of finding out that Vulcan’s name, Jim stepped up to the counter finally, “Can I please have a large white mocha with an extra shot of espresso? Actually, can that be two extras? Thanks.”
By the time he got his drink, he could just hear Bones berating him for it (it’s just a heart attack mixed with bad cholesterol) but when he took his first sip of it, he sighed with a smile.
Bliss.
---
Plus One.
He was such a fucking idiot.
He knew this would happen –he knew. No one passed the Kobayashi Maru. It was designed that way. He knew that.
Yet he still scheduled himself for the test. And he didn’t ask for a different time when he saw they had scheduled him to take the test on his birthday.
On the day his father died –the same way the test was designed.
And even though he knew all of this –he knew the test was a cheat, that his father had died on the day he was born, that him taking the test on this day meant nothing –it was still…
Upsetting was putting it lightly.
If Jim was just upset, he wouldn’t have left the test and gone to the nearest empty conference room to break down. If Jim was just upset, he would’ve been able to at least make it back to his room. If he was just upset, he wouldn’t be holding back tears at all, or short-of-breath, or damn near a panic attack.
It was all so meaningless.
What the fuck was he doing here?
He forced himself to take deeper breaths, to stop thinking of what his dad must’ve been thinking and feeling in his final moments, to focus on the now.
He had only just managed to calm down completely when he heard the door open behind him, and he immediately stiffened.
“Excuse me,” it was said as an apology.
“Sorry,” Jim responded, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hands. He turned to look at the intruder, hoping either that they would leave or that he could escape.
It was the Vulcan.
The same Vulcan from the café –and from the altercation with Gary –and hadn’t he seen him before that too?
He couldn’t take his eyes off the Vulcan, who was staring at him in some discomfort.
Right, emotions weren’t really a strong suit of Vulcans, and it was probably pretty obvious that Jim had been crying recently.
Jim’s hands fell away from his face, and from the corner of his eye, he noticed his wrist –his Words –just under his sleeve.
“I was unaware this room was occupied,” the Vulcan explained. He hesitated, and then asked, “Are you alright?”
“What’s your name?” Jim asked, turning to face the Vulcan completely.
The Vulcan blinked. “I am S'chn T'gai Spock. You may call me Spock.”
“Spock,” Jim repeated, trying it out in his mouth. Spock straightened at the sound of his own name. “Wait… Spock? Are you Amanda Grayson’s Spock?”
Somehow, Spock straightened further. “Amanda Grayson is my mother.”
Jim smiled wide, swiping one hand over his eyes again. “Oh, wow, she’s basically a legend -I think I’ve read all her work –you know she’s dedicated a lot of it to you and your father, right?”
“I am aware of that fact. What may I call you?” Spock asked, tilting his head slightly in question.
“I’m Jim Kirk.”
“Kirk?” Spock questioned, “You are related to Captain George Kirk?”
Jim nodded, “My dad. You can call me Jim.”
“Jim,” Spock said, nodding his head slightly.
Jim looked away from Spock, staring solemnly just next to him. Spock opened his mouth –probably to ask Jim if he was alright again –but suddenly Jim spoke, “Do Vulcans have Words, Spock?”
“Negative,” Spock said, and he clenched his hands behind his back where Jim could not see them. “The Soulmate Words are an experience limited to humans, or those with human bloodlines. Full Vulcans do not experience them.”
Jim tilted his head, still staring at Spock, noticing his stiffness, his emphasis on certain words in his explanation.
“Do you?” Jim asked.
Spock looked down, almost seeming to curl into himself at the question. “I will leave you. I apologize for intruding on your solitude.”
Spock took a step back. Jim stepped forward.
“What was it you first said to me? When you walked into this room?” Jim asked.
Spock paused, staring at Jim again, “I said excuse me.”
“And the last time at the café?” Jim took another step forward, “And the time before that?” Another step, “What have your first words been to me every time I’ve seen you?”
Spock looked flustered –he stared at Jim, mouth partially open in shock. “What have I… and you –every time, you said the same –”
Spock cut himself off at Jim finally came to a halt directly in front of him. Jim held out his arm, bending his elbow so his arm was flat in front of both of them, sleeve still covering his wrist for the moment.
Spock’s heart was pounding in his side.
“Give me your hand, Spock,” Jim whispered. “The one with your Word.” Singular. It had to be.
Slowly, Spock brought his hand from behind his back, and extended it so it was parallel with Jim’s arm.
Jim stared into Spock’s face as he brought up his free hand to grip Spock’s wrist. Spock mirrored his action.
Jim and Spock paused a moment, still staring at each other.
Finally, Jim nodded once and Spock returned it, and they both looked down at each other’s wrists.
Almost as soon as the Words were revealed, Jim slumped forward and leaned entirely into Spock. Spock wrapped an arm around Jim to support him instinctually.
“I’m so sorry,” Jim whispered, “I’m so sorry I didn’t realize sooner –god, I should’ve known –”
Spock murmured over his apologies, “I should have been more aware as well, Jim –you are not at fault –”
“How many times, Spock? How many times did we just walk right by each other –”
“Irrelevant, Jim. It is irrelevant now.”
For a long time, they stood together, holding on to each other, breathing in each other’s air, and reveling in it.
Eventually, Jim leaned back (though he kept his arms around Spock), he smiled, “So, uh… do you wanna go get some coffee? Or lunch? O-or do you need some time, we can wait, we don’t have to –”
“Jim,” Spock interrupted, “where would you like to go for lunch?”
Jim beamed.