Blue Jolly Ranchers

Author's Note: Inspired by the tumblr post by spocksys.

While it was not news that Spock was a man-Vulcan of big words, Spock had a very deep, very dark secret: he sucked at adjectives. Oh, sure, a lot of the descriptions that fell out of his mouth ran along the lines of "illogical" or "fascinating" or "Captain, I don't think that..." but when it came down to describing things, like what Nyota's hair smelled like, or how Doctor McCoy operated in the med bay, he was at a loss.

So when he looked into the eyes of one James T. Kirk, not for the first time and hopefully not for the last, he was never more aware of his adjective-lack than ever before. There was literally no word that he could think of to describe Jim's eyes. It simply didn't exist. Too light for sapphire, too dark for baby, too warm for ice, too closed-off for sky. It didn't bother him at first, not really, but now that they were...more than acquaintances and colleagues and crewmates, it bothered him far too much. Especially since he had discovered that Nyota's hair smelled like citrus from the shampoo she used, with a hint of her own womanly musk, and Doctor McCoy was calm, collected and firm in the med bay in just about any medical situation. He was proud that he was getting better at adjectives, yet Jim's eye-colour was a disconcerting and irrevocably irritating enigma.

Spock tried to do his own research. If anyone had checked the data logs on his PADD, he or she would have found searches on colour wheels, synonyms for blue, and images for 'blue things' which contained everything from flowers to an old - ancient, forgotten - comic series in the late 1950s about small, blue people who lived in mushrooms.

He didn't dare ask anyone, out of very valid reasons that involved embarrassment, but that didn't stop him from glancing at his captain as surreptitiously and as often as possible to see if the wayward word would simply materialize into being.

It was an ordinary day when it happened. Everyone was at their respective posts, even the Captain who had sneaked a small bag of food onto the Bridge. Spock, used to Jim breaking regulations, ignored him the best he could but it was hard - difficult, arduous - to ignore the sound of teeth crunching what sounded like small rocks. He buried himself in his work at his console and winced a fraction at every hard shatter.

"Hey, Spock," Jim stage-whispered to him after several minutes. "Want one?"

Spock turned slowly in his chair. Jim had left his captain's chair to stand just behind him. For some strange reason, the Captain's lips were tinged a reddish-green. He had one hand held out to him and in his palm was...was...

"Captain, what is that?"

Kirk, plainly unaware of his First Officer's emotional distress, smiled. His teeth were stained in multiple colours! "It's a Jolly Rancher. A hard candy from Earth. Try one."

But Spock only looked back to the tiny, wrapped candy sitting harmlessly in his Captain's hand and then looked up into those blue eyes. The eyes whose colour had no name, no description, no simile or metaphor to be likened unto.

Until now.

The Bridge had gone uncertainly silent and Jim shifted his weight from his left foot to his right. "You want a different colour?"

"No." Spock said it quietly but swiftly, too swiftly, and his fingers managed to hold steady as he took that candy and put it in his pocket. "Thank you, Captain."

Jim smiled at him with that atrociously-coloured smile and walked away, offering a piece to Uhura then to Sulu then to Chekov then to every other soul on the Bridge. Everyone got one. Everyone stared at Spock as he revolved back to his console, feeling that blue candy settle in his pocket.

He went straight to his quarters after the shift, bee-lined to his bedside table. In the top drawer was a box of various mementos - he wasn't nostalgic - that included a photograph of his parents on their wedding day, a necklace he planned on giving Nyota, and a couple of tokens from his childhood. Pulling out the candy, he turned it over in his fingers. Jolly Rancher was printed on the transparent, fragile wrapping, Blue Raspberry just beneath it. It was a strange name for a flavour, bizarre to label a normally-red fruit blue. He briefly entertained the notion to eat it, but no. He didn't dare. It was...too precious. Yes, he could admit it to himself with no one else to hear.

He set the candy down, away from the photos in case it melted, closed the box and nestled it back in its place in the drawer. Latching the drawer in place, he smiled.

He had the word now. It existed - had for a long time but he hadn't known.

Now, whenever he looked into James T. Kirk's eyes, he knew. Sweet and hard and full of strangeness, Jim had the eyes of blue Jolly Ranchers.

End.

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