The night shift was usually too afraid to tell Spock he didn't need to be on the bridge. Tonight, however, Uhura was on duty. His protests were ignored, and the small woman's unusually intimidating presence pushed him towards the turbolift, promising constant annoyance if he didn't get at least some sleep.
Without the maintenance of the ship to occupy him, Spock opted to meditate in the calm of the observatory, rather than wait for sleep to slowly overcome him in his quarters. Navigating through the corridors of the Enterprise, he came to a halt in front of the observatory door. It opened at his presence, and he stepped deliberately into the large, dimly lit room.
The science officer noted a figure sitting in an observatory chair. Stepping closer, Spock recognized his captain staring out at space through the thick, durable poly-glass material separating the oxygenated chamber from an endless vacuum. Spock briefly deliberated leaving Captain Kirk in peace, but was interrupted.
"Mister Spock." His voice was calm, but tinged with melancholy.
"Captain, I apologize for the intrusion." Despite the captain's gaze being directed elsewhere, Spock still gave a slight bow out of courtesy.
"Please, sit with me."
Spock hesitated, then said, "Captain, I do not wish to invade your privacy more than I already have."
"Don't be ridiculous. Come, sit." The captain still did not turn his head, but waved his hand vaguely in the direction of another seat.
Spock allowed his face to twitch once in irritation, then walked stiffly to the chair adjacent to his captain's.
They sat in silence, Spock staring dispassionately at a spot on the floor and Kirk continuing to gaze into open starfield.
"Do you ever get homesick, Mister Spock?" The captain's sudden speech brought the Vulcan to break his contest of stoicism with the laminate.
"You are not well, Captain? Do you wish for me to call Doctor McCoy?"
Kirk chuckled. "No, Spock. Nothing is physically wrong with me."
Spock's gaze somehow implied a question.
"Homesickness," the captain began, "is missing the place that you come from. Wondering about friends, family, and what has changed in your absence. Generally, this accompanied by a sense of nostalgia."
The first officer took a moment to process this, his ingrained logic warring with his comprehension of human sentimentality.
"I do not completely understand, captain," he admitted.
Kirk showed no sign that he had heard the statement. Spock raised a brow and turned back to the observatory floor.
Another stretch of silence consumed the room. Spock considered leaving to find an unoccupied room in which to avoid sleep. It was then that the captain spoke once more, catching the Vulcan mid-thought.
"In Iowa, thousands of fireflies would come out at night." The melancholy tone wad returned, but the captain's voice was noticeably tighter.
"I assume there is some relevance in that statement?" Spock's lightly mocking tone (for a Vulcan, at least) implied no such assumption.
Unfazed, Kirk continued. "The stars look like Riverside at night. Like thousands and thousands of fireflies."
The Vulcan man only realized that the captain had not yet turned to look at him when said captain was staring him in the face. Kirk's eyes held their normal air of whimsy and mischief, but were noticeably glossed with regret.
"It's beautiful out here, but there are no fireflies in space." The captain continued to look at his first officer, and the weight of his gaze began to make Spock uncomfortable. All the same, he did not fidget and he did not look away.
Kirk's eyes slowly began to regain their usual impish shine, and his mouth shifted from its uncommonly stoic set, forming the familiar devious grin. The change made Spock blink, the extent of his visible surprise.
"Well, it's pretty late. I'll leave you to your stargazing, Spock." The captain rose from his chair and began to leave the room.
"Jim." Spock had swiveled his chair around to face the other man. Kirk froze and turned to Spock, his expression now wary.
"There is nothing remotely like a Vulcan sunset in space." His voice was flat, as always, but his meaning was clear. The captain's cautionary stance was dropped, his lips pulling up into a soft smile.
"Goodnight, Spock." Kirk's smile remained as he turned back around and into the hallway, door sliding closed behind him.
In the empty observatory, Spock allowed himself a slight quirk of his lips, stood, and left.