A/N: Just a random one-shot in the world of trek.
Spock's Sandwitch
There was an all consuming silence as three men sat at a table, all eyes focused on the object before them.
"Well?" The caramel blond man in the captain's yellow uniform finally broke the silence.
"Captain...I due not see the logic in this," a dark haired man with pointy ears intoned with just the barest hint of befuddlement.
The brown haired, oldest human of the group rolled his eyes, "Its not meant to be logical you hobgoblin, its food."
"Come on Spock, just give it a little bite..." Captain Kirk urged, a grin unable to be expunged completely curling his lips.
"This food item is an amalgamation of unidentifiable solids in some sort of sauce being held in an unsuitable container of yeast based material without any sort of horizontal barriers, leaving the top and bottom defunct."
"I can assure you that its been designed with Vulcan tastes in mind," Dr. McCoy, also affectionately known as Bones rolled his eyes.
"Correction Doctor," Spock intoned, an eyebrow cocked, "The construction of this edible is in no way logical, therefore it was not made for Vulcans in mind."
"Come on Spock, aren't you the one who says that as explorers we need to let go of our cultural proclivities and try new things?"
"Technically speaking Jim, this particular food item is not a "new thing" as it was created by Humans in the early 20th century, and since it was once a part of human culture, I am therefore not required to suspend my "proclivities" which, I should remind you, is not something that you yourself usually exercise."
Bones snorted in amusement and nodded, rolling his eyes again at Jim's betrayed look, "Well the elf has you there Jim, if you exercised as much caution when eating anything alien...or sleeping with anything alien, then I would see a lot less of your face after your dragged in by our friend here. Your almost as bad as Chekov, though at least he stumbles into trouble instead of buying it dinner."
A voice in the background went "Heeey!" and was promptly ignored.
The Doctor sighed when Kirk pouted all the harder.
"Look Spock, Jim agreed to a Food History Day once every standard week and if I remember last week's fun little food item, plomteek soup that you suggested...and among the fascinating facts behind your popular dish that we all learned that day was the fact that apparently Jim is allergic to said soup. "
"Yes, but given that many humans have ingested plomteek soup and have not shown obverse reactions..." Spock tried to clarify only for Bones to interrupt.
"Yeah well, this is Jim were talking about here."
Spock opened his mouth then closed it, and nodded his head slightly, conceding the point.
"Therefore," Bones intoned with a smirk, "you technically owe Jim and me for that little medical experience."
One of Spock's eye brows twitched.
When he continued to stare at the sandwich, and was refused the use of utensils, Bones let out a grunt of annoyance and exclaimed. "For goodness sake Spock! Its a Sloppy Joe, not an exploding phaser."
Spock gave a very slight, barely noticeable sigh, his other eyebrow twitching, but reached out, and very delicately, using every fiber of his phenomenal Vulcan mind and dexterity to carefully pick up the slightly soggy bread and towards his mouth. Sauce and ground vegetarian solids leaked through his fingers.
"That's it Spock!" Kirk cheered, "Don't be shy now, you need to show it whose boss! Take a big bite!"
Spock opened his mouth and took a large bite, sending goopy innards everywhere, including down Spock's uniform front.
Spock chewed and swallowed in his usual precises fashion, set the remains down on his plate, cocked his eyebrow and said:
"It was palatable, now if you'll excuse me, I require a shower and a new uniform," Spock stood, picked up his plate with the rest of his meal and left for his quarters.
When he was gone, Bones let out a sigh, "I can't believe he did it! I was so certain he would be more willing to argue the logic/illogic of lunch until his shift started, even when you made it a part of our bet that I, of all people would be the one to convince him to eat it."
Jim smirked, "I didn't doubt either of you for a moment," the captain said smugly, then held out his hand, "pay up."
Grumbling, McCoy reached under the table and pulled out a bottle of bright blue liquid, slapping his favorite Romulan ale into the victorious Captain's hands, the later crowing victoriously as he set his prize aside and dived into his own lunch with sloppy gusto.