Slips of the Tongue
Disclaimer: I borrowed these characters for my own purposes!
Traveling Incognito
As soon as he embarks on the shuttle, Spock scans the other passengers and is relieved that no one else from Starfleet appears to be on this particular flight. The Vulcans already seated look up briefly or not at all—and Spock stows his duffel and sinks into a seat behind the bulkhead.
Most of the passengers on the weekly shuttle from San Francisco to Shi'Kahr are Vulcan scientists returning home after working on projects in the Bay Area, though occasionally Starfleet personnel assigned to the Vulcan liaison office take the shuttle when military transport isn't available. The shuttles are so much slower than the larger ships, however, that most officers are careful to schedule their travel when passing starships or cruisers can give them a lift.
Within minutes the shuttle takes off and the passengers settle into reading, working, or meditating to pass the next several hours. Spock, however, is unable to do any of these things. Although he toggles on his comm and thumbs the messages, he doesn't read them. Perhaps he should call ahead and tell his mother that he is on the way? He decides not to, though he cannot articulate to himself why he is reluctant.
Once the shuttle reaches escape velocity, the passengers are free to move around, though few do. Spock considers standing up and walking down the aisle and back-he feels uncharacteristically jittery and wonders if movement will help him calm his breathing.
Before he can stand, a young Vulcan woman is at his side.
"You are Spock, are you not?" she asks, and Spock is startled. He had carefully changed from his normal dark gray Starfleet instructor's uniform into nondescript civilian clothes—yet someone has recognized him after all. He beats back a flush of annoyance and nods.
The young woman is wearing a knee-length overcoat and pants that nip in at her ankles. Her hair is lighter than Spock's, though her eyes are much darker than his own. She makes a motion with her shoulder and Spock understands that she wants to sit in the empty seat beside him. He stands so she can make her way past.
"Have we met?" he asks as the young woman situates herself, pulling her overcoat around her and turning slightly.
"I heard you lecture at the Academy recently," she says, and Spock mentally scans his memory of the audience of his last lecture—a surprisingly well-attended one on Romulan dialects. He cannot retrieve any image of the young woman—nor any clear picture of the people in the auditorium that day.
He doesn't doubt that she was there—his inability to recall her is further proof that his recent distraction is detrimental to a fault. Normally he can retrieve just this kind of unnoted information from what he has seen. Lately, however—
The young woman does not seem to notice his unease. She introduces herself as T'Nira, an engineer working with an architectural firm on Earth. For several minutes Spock asks polite questions about her work and her experiences in San Francisco, but soon the effort tires him and he asks fewer questions until at last he is silent.
"Forgive my intrusion into your privacy," T'Nira says suddenly, and Spock is both relieved and distraught that she has caught the tenor of his mood. Surely she will go back to her assigned seat now, he thinks, but instead, T'Nira leans fractionally closer and says, "If you need help at the shuttle terminal, I am in no hurry and can offer assistance. My connecting flight will not arrive for many hours. Since you are unwell, perhaps I can—"
Even as he speaks, Spock is mortified that he is unable to control the tone of his voice.
"I am not unwell," he says, and then he adds, "but thank you for your offer."
T'Nira stares at him without blinking—the Vulcan equivalent of calling someone a liar. Spock takes a breath and tries again.
"I am not in need of assistance," he says. "If I appear...unwell...I am simply in need of quiet and meditation after a strenuous teaching schedule this semester."
And then he adds, almost as an exclamation point to his comment, "The Academy is on break and it seemed a propitious time to visit my parents. If you will excuse me—"
T'Nira gives an almost imperceptible nod and exits the seat. Spock leans back and closes his eyes. If a stranger can pick up on his distress, he knows he will not be able to conceal it from his parents. He has to get some measure of control before the shuttle docks.
X X X X X X X X X
The ride in the rental transport from the shuttle terminal to his parents' house is a blur—later Spock realizes that he has driven without seeing the landscape at all. He fluctuates from imagining his mother's reaction at his sudden appearance to remembering his last conversation with Cadet Uhura.
For the past four months they have punctuated their time working in the lab with regular interludes of conversation or small meals—sometimes alone but more often with other assistants or professors in the communications department break room. Cadet Uhura—Nyota—seems to relish these social times, her hands making animated motions as she speaks, her eyes quick and ardent when she presses home a point in a friendly argument.
Far more reserved, Spock has been content to listen, mostly, and watch. At first he found her energy slightly off-putting, though he has come to recognize his appreciation for it when she is absent and he has to interact with his colleagues without her help.
She is not only a buffer for him, she also takes care to pull him into the conversations with others, asking him to clarify something or asking a provocative question that she knows he cannot resist answering.
And she teases him—gently, carefully—in a way that has made him homesick—not that Nyota reminds him of his mother, but her love of wordplay and her instinctive recognition that he shares it—even while he hides it—makes him feel understood in a way that is rare, and which highlights his loneliness since he has been living on Earth.
Their last conversation two days ago had begun like so many, with Professor Artura and his assistant making tea in the break room and asking Nyota and Spock to join them.
"Spock," the Andorian professor had said with his lisping accent, "your tea will get cold if you don't drink it quickly."
Nyota laughed softly.
"Just hold your hand around your mug if it does," she said. Spock looked quickly at his mug and Nyota laughed again.
"I mean, you could heat up that mug just by touching it," she said. "You're hot enough." Spock raised an eyebrow.
"I assume you mean that my core temperature is higher than the temperature of the tea."
"I think the cadet is making a pun," the Andorian professor said silkily. "Surely you know the double meaning of the word hot in human vernacular. And perhaps she is making a comparison, too—saying that she is a tea mug."
Professor Artura's assistant spluttered. Nyota darted a glance at Spock, who felt himself flush. He considered putting down his tea and leaving for the lab—but such behavior would probably draw more attention, not less, to his being flustered.
In the past, Spock had suspected the blue-skinned Andorian of getting pleasure from Spock's discomfort—but until now the jibes had been more playful than malicious.
Or perhaps not malicious, but too close for comfort. Most Andorians were not telepaths—surely Professor Artura did not know that Spock was having trouble during his meditation time—his unwanted ruminations about Nyota disturbing his focus.
The best defense was a good offense, he decided, and he set down his mug and said, "Or perhaps the cadet simply means what she says, that Vulcan physiology is not the same as humans."
Professor Artura shook his head and rose, and his assistant followed. As soon as they were out of the break room, Nyota placed her hand flat on the table between them and said, "I'm sorry he misconstrued what I said. I didn't mean to embarrass you—"
Before Spock could respond that he was not, in fact, embarrassed, Nyota added, "Although, you could have replied that I could cool a mug of tea with my human touch."
Spock hesitated only a moment before saying, "But the professor compared you to the tea mug, not me. We would have to change the metaphor."
And suddenly the double entendre crashed into his consciousness and this time he did flush—hard and visibly, and Nyota jumped up so quickly that she knocked the table and splashed tea over the edge of her mug.
He replays this scene multiple times in his mind—and then suddenly his parents' house looms before him.
A/N: If this entertained you at all, please let me know! Up next, scenes from Vulcan.
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