Summary: After a night of drinking Spock ends up agreeing to a stranger's plan to travel cross-country. KirkXSpock, Spirk, Bromance, Lemon in later chapters.

The Vulcan Embassy on Earth was a beautiful gated community stationed in San Francisco and just over a mile wide. It consisted of, naturally, the embassy itself; a beautiful skywards spiral twenty stories tall and decorated in the beautiful style of post 21st century Vulcan architecture about 3 city blocks in width, but there was more to it than that. Besides the political building, which held the many offices and meeting spaces and even a few apartments near the 19th floor, the community also held beautiful gardens and several small neighborhoods full of houses of designed with the same beautiful Vulcan architecture as the Embassy. Supposedly, the Terrans had hired several well-known architects of the time to assist in the project when the embassy was made back in the late 22nd century. Overall the hold thing was spread out over nearly 3 acres of land and divided into roughly 15 city blocks.

It was late in the evening, the Terran sun's dying rays fragmenting beautifully off the glass of the Embassy. Most of the Vulcans who worked or lived there were headed home or currently there and a deep quiet, provided by noise canceling generators placed on the corners of the gate surrounding the Embassy, was starting to set in.

It was thanks to this calm quiet of early evening that nearly every person on Embassy grounds could hear the ruckus going down at the Ambassador's house. Not all of the Vulcans were close enough to hear the exact words of course, but thanks to the very human shouting of Amanda Grayson, the Embassy's sole Terran inhabitant and Ambassador Sarek's wife, it wasn't hard for the other inhabitants and their unusually good hearing to discern that a squabble was going on.

Spock didn't bother to stay in the house and endure his mother's shouting, even if it wasn't directed at him. He just couldn't stand to spend one more minute in the living room, standing around his parent's coffee table as his father stared at him in that cold, calculating, disappointed way. He quickly turned tail and left without another word and his mother, predictably, stopped scolding her husband and followed her son.

Spock didn't bother trying to explain himself to his mother and it was only after she'd chased him out of the house, down the steps and to his hover car parked in front of their home that he turned and spoke to her.

They argued, and even with his emotions in check, the boy couldn't help but raise his voice. He felt a stab of regret when he saw his mother's face, hurt, and was almost tempted to go back inside to talk things out like she wanted. But he couldn't. He just could not deal with his father and told Amanda this. He shook his head one final time at her begging and pleading before getting in his car. He watched he go back into the house with his review mirror before promptly slamming his head down onto his steering wheel. He remained in that uncomfortable position for a minute then took a deep breath and tried to stuff his emotions back into place. He sighed, a human trait he'd picked up from living amongst humans, and turned on his car. Then he drove away, refusing to look back as he left the Embassy and hopped onto the I80 towards Berkeley.

He breathed a sigh of relief on his metaphorical tires his the Bay Bridge, signaling the escape from San Francisco, and he watched the hover cars in front of him with only the minimal attention required to not get in an accident, his mind far away. It wasn't until nearly the end of the bridge that he snapped back to attention, signs above him pointing towards a fork in the highway leading to I80 and the I580.

He wasn't sure why he did it, after all his apartment and responsibilities lay in Berkeley, but Spock suddenly felt compelled to turn off towards the I580, to Oakland.

It certainly wasn't a logical choice, going to Oakland, but perhaps that's why he did it. An act of spite and rebellion towards his father, a man who'd forced him to follow Kolinar and give up everything for logic just to turn around and disown his son out of illogical hate. Maybe that's also why Spock chose to pull off at the nearest bar he saw to drown his sorrows. It wasn't logical, but maybe he needed a little illogic right now.

The bar was called 'The Grunge' and from the look of the grimy floor and dirty bar seats, it was aptly named. Spock seemed to be one of the only customer's there, and of course he was the only Vulcan, perhaps that's why the attractive female Orion barkeeper was so excited to attempt conversation with him. But Spock did not give her his name or respond to her questions, he simply asked if the carried chocolate liquor or something Vulcans could get intoxicated off of and she gave him a curious look and a smile. The barkeeper seemed just as surprised as Spock that they had something, since Vulcans usually drank for flavor and etiquette, and preceded to pour him a shot of a dark, amber colored liquid. He downed it immediately, and silently held up his finger, requesting another.

The girl seemed perplexed, but quickly understood. She told him that he wasn't like most Vulcans, in an inquisitive and polite sort of way and after another shot Spock felt moderately friendly enough to cryptically respond, "I am aware."

After a silent agreement, the Orion went back to tending her bar and only came back to Spock when he held up a slender finger, which was his was of requesting another shot. It was very clear he was in a bad mood and not willing to talk. For some reason this seemed to make the barkeeper happy, but by the time she said so Spock had had enough shots to give into the warm feeling and silent glower, effectively tuning her out. It was a ridiculous notion to be excited that a Vulcan was showing emotion, especially a negative one, anyway.

It was after Spock's fourth shot that he began to start nearly stacking his glasses upside down in a tower and after receiving his fifth that he began to check out a customer that appeared and started to converse with the barkeeper. The man, who was an attractive, well built blonde with startling blue eyes, was very obviously flirting with the Orion. They laughed for a second and then the blonde said something, and the girl shook her head and began to turn away, mixing a drink for another customer. Spock traced his finger around the rim of his shot glass when his COM unit began to chirp, disrupting his musings. Someone was trying to contact him. The Vulcan sighed and gave on last peek at the blond before unhooking the COM from his pants and looking at the screen. He furrowed his eyebrows at the caller id and quickly downed his shot, expecting that he might need the extra alcohol to deal with this call.

"Hello, Nyota." Spock answered, evidently failing to keep a slur out of his voice. "…Out." He responded evasively and tried to refocus the caller on something else, "How is your thesis coming along? … it was not my intent to distract you fr… Vulcans do not lie, Nyota as I'm sure you… negative, I am not inebriated…" He pursed his lips, quickly becoming drained with the bombarded of questions. "Nyota please. I assure you I am fine, my family and I simply got into a minor altercation…"

Spock flicked his empty shot glass as he listened to his friend go on about how she was here for him if he wished to talk and a few other things. "Negative, I do no wish to speak of- I am aware you are here for me, I appreciate the sentiment." He sighed at her next question and remembered that he still hadn't stacked two of the five glasses he had. He carefully stacked another glass. "Well, I doubt I can now take a shuttle there but I assure you I will attend…I do not care, Nyota. It is your day, I will be there even if I must drive cross country myself." The Vulcan punctuated his sentence by stacking his final cup on top of the already wobbling tower. This seemed to catch the blonde's attention, who stopped speaking to look over at him. Since the blonde was momentarily distracted, successfully derailing their conversation, the barkeeper looked towards Spock as well to see what was going on. Spock quickly took the opportunity to catch her attention and order another shot. "Do not fret Nyota, I will keep my promise… Affirmative…" The bartender set down another shot in from of him and stared at his makeshift tower of shot glasses as if debating to take them away and clean them. He quickly took his shot and stacked it upon the others, raising an eyebrow at the girl in a clear challenge. The Orion was not about to fight the Vulcan for his stack of dirty dishes so she shrugged and allowed his to keep his tower. Satisfied, Spock returned to his conversation, which was coming to a close. "I am fond of you as well… I understand… goodbye… yes, Nyota… goodbye."

He snapped the COM shut with a decisive 'click' and then promptly slumped over the bar with a sigh, careful not to harm his tower as he sprawled out. After only a second's hesitation his slammed his forehead onto the bar and stayed like that, breathing deeply and trying to retire his sanity.

This day had been long indeed.

"Hey." A deep voice, sweet and charming sounded off to his right. It was all Spock could do not to glare when he looked up towards the intruding sound. It was the blonde from across the bar, he'd somehow migrated over towards Spock while he was moping – not that the Vulcan would ever call it that. "What are you having?" The blond persisted, not at all concerned by the Vulcan's expression.

Now that the blonde was closer to him, Spock could tell he was Terran, his rosy, pinkish skin and rounded ears confirming it. He wore a plain white shit that was fairly snug against his well-toned chest, a pair of jeans that Spock was certain human females called 'booty pants', a black leather jacket and, of all things, a blue backpack. Spock didn't bother to see what shoes the blond was wearing because he was almost certain his stomach would not be able to handle looking at the ground. There was also a pair of sunglasses atop his messy hair, probably Aviators – this man's whole appearance screamed 'play boy', it would be fitting and fairly logical to assume that the blonde's taste in jock attire extended to his glasses.

He smiled and said something else that Spock didn't catch and then turned and talked to the bartender again. She looked at Spock and then glared at the blonde, aggressively polishing a cocktail glass and saying something back. They seemed to argue and finally two shots were placed on the bar near the Vulcan's flushed ear tips. He realized his head was still on the table.

The blonde seemed to say something and then laughed, Spock merely watched the movement of his diaphragm make his abs dance for a moment before he accepted the man's offering and downed the other shot.

He couldn't remember if he'd managed to stack that one. He remembered looking at a small pile of three or four other shots tipped and rolling about the bar.

Did he drink those?

Why did he not put them atop his tower?

Where was his shot glass tower anyway?

He couldn't seem to remember, everything seemed to go hazy.

Suddenly the blonde was leaning over him with an arm under his shoulders.

Everything seemed to get hazy again, and the next thing Spock recognized was a white porcelain toilet bowl in front of him.

He heaved, and he remembered a bitter taste.

Suddenly there was wind in his hair, he though hi might be leaning his head out a car window but wasn't sure.

Then another toilet bowl came into sight, this one seemed familiar, but he couldn't understand why.

He heaved again, and that bitter taste burst across his senses once more.

The blonde was suddenly looking over him again, his eyebrows furrowed in a concerned way.

And then Spock just stopped trying to remember things.

Nothing was making sense anyway.

So he finally let himself fall into the dark.

More AU Spirk! Because I can and I LOVE IT O.O Annnnnyway if you liked please review! :D