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Jim usually wore a Tactical division yellow shirt with gold captain’s braid. It had a round, quite high, neckline, and was at best only attractive due to the fact it was Jim wearing it. Today, Jim was wearing a rank uniform instead of division colours. The uniform shirt had a quite low neckline, which dipped into a ‘V.’ The shirt was also asymmetrical, and furthermore, it was green.
Spock estimated that he glanced over at Jim wearing it at a rate of 3.62 times more frequently than he glanced over at Jim during an average alpha shift. He was quite certain that Jim noticed. When Spock glanced at the captain's chair, the captain more often than not also glanced at the science station, and thus noticed Spock's attention.
When gamma shift temporarily relieved the alpha shift on the bridge for their lunchbreak, Spock found himself taking the break, gravitationally drifting, as ever, towards his captain. The pull seemed more pronounced, the gravity more massive, than the range he had quantified as ‘normal.’
In the mess, he drifted close enough for Jim to talk to him quietly. “Alright, Spock, what is it?”
“What is ‘what,’ captain?”
“You’ve been staring at me all morning.”
“Captain, ‘staring’ suggests I have been looking at you for long periods of time. This is not accurate.”
Jim laughed. His sternothyroid muscle moved visibly. “I’ll rephrase my statement. You've been sneaking furtive looks at me every few minutes all morning.”
“It is not a matter I wish to discuss where it could be overheard.”
“Alright. Will you please tell me after this shift ends, and before our next shift starts?”
Spock allowed himself a temporally elongated blink to signal confirmation. Vulcan forms of body language were something that few Humans in Starfleet had taken the effort to learn, but while Jim had not studied Vulcan mannerisms generally, he had learned quite well how to interpret Spock's mannerisms. Nevertheless, he slightly redundantly also confirmed his answer verbally — “I will do so.”
Jim smiled at him. Spock looked away. Sometimes, input regulation was required for self-control.
After alpha shift, Spock went to Jim’s quarters. “You are not wearing your usual uniform shirt,” he explained, after a few less neccessary exchanges of words and gestures.
Jim nodded, gesturing in the direction of the shelf which housed his clothing. “No. I'm running short of the usual ones until they get fixed again, so I thought I'd mix it up a bit.”
Spock glanced at the floor, acknowledging this. Jim placed a hand on his upper arm, briefly, through his Sciences division uniform and thermal undershirt beneath it. “Does it bother you, Spock?”
‘Bother’ was a subjective and ambiguous term. He worked to push down embarrassment. “It has been somewhat distracting.” The statement had, despite his efforts, something of the nature of an admission.
“Good distracting or bad distracting?”
“I do not believe myself equipped to judge.”
“Do you like it, Spock?”
Yes. Yes! “Yes.”
Spock had never particularly needed to catalogue different types of smile, or he had not believed he needed to, until he had gotten to know Jim. The variety, intensity and impact of the captain's smiles upon him had made the establishment of such a catalogue logical. Currently, he was beaming. This was a word associated with the light emitted by a sun. It was warm and yellow like his shirt currently was not. “What about it do you like?” he asked.
Spock gathered his thoughts. “The shape and colour are… appealing.”
Jim’s eyes widened, both of his eyebrows raising, but his mouth remained closed for the duration of this expression. It indicated unexpected amusement. “Is green your favourite colour?” he asked.
“No, captain. It is entirely illogical to have a favoured perceived wavelength of light, but if I did, it would not be green.”
“Hm.” Jim looked Spock over, tilting his head, raising his arms a little in front of him and then lowering them again. It drew, likely accidentally, Spock’s gaze back to the asymmetrical clasp. He was thinking, speculating. “Is green the colour of passion on Vulcan?”
The speculation was correct. As with so many of Jim’s questions, it was a shrewd guess. As the colour of blood, green represented metaphorical aspects of the heart in many of Vulcan's cultures, in much the same way that red did in many cultures of Earth. Spock blinked slowly.
“Aha. And what about the shape? Is it the neckline?”
Spock dragged his gaze along the neckline, then looked at Jim's face through his eyelashes — something that among Vulcans showed deference, and among Humans showed flirtatious intent. As Jim was his captain, and exceedingly attractive, both applied. “The portion of your chest that is revealed is aesthetically pleasing… but it is not what is primarily distracting.”
“Could you explain to me what is?”
Jim was patient with him, especially by comparison to other Humans that Spock worked with. Outside of a crisis, he did not demand information like most superior officers did, without a care for the personal privacy that was a core tenet of the way of Surak. Instead, he controlled his own Human nature for the comfort of Spock's nature. There was nothing worthier of loyalty and devotion than James Kirk’s regard for his crew, and for Spock specifically. The shirt, however, came very close to contending. Out of personal loyalty, Spock attempted to explain. “I do not entirely understand why, but in the region of Vulcan where I was raised, asymmetry is regarded as attractive.”
“Oh! And the wrap shirt is the most asymmetrical uniform in Starfleet.”
Spock blinked affirmation of this statement’s reality.
“Is it inappropriate for me to dress like this?”
“It is a Starfleet uniform that you are entitled to wear. Among Starfleet and among Humans, it is certainly appropriate.”
“Is it the kind of thing I could wear around your parents?”
“Please do not mention my parents,” said Spock quickly. They did not bear thinking about in the same context as the shirt.
“Ah,” said Jim, chuckling. “I’ll try not to wear it around other Vulcans, then.”
Spock was very familiar with the sensation of jealousy. Less familiar was what he was currently experiencing in response to Jim’s statement – it was similar to jealousy, but not the same. It felt as though something were present, rather than something being absent. It was not unpleasant. Spock believed that the sensation was possessiveness. “Yes,” he agreed. “That would be logical.”