An (Almost) Romantic Dinner
Kirk drummed his fingers impatiently on the arm of his chair as he watched the time slowly tick away on his console clock. He still had three minutes until the end of his shift and it felt like an eternity. He had always known that time passed slower when you were paying attention to it, but he was so anxious for his shift to end that he couldn't help but stare.
Spock observed his lover curiously from his station, well aware of the fact that Kirk wouldn't catch him doing it. Kirk had seemed rather impatient during the last half of his shift, a behavior change that Spock quickly picked up on. He wondered to himself whether or not it had anything to do with this being the human holiday known as "Valentine's Day". On this day, humans performed all sorts of courting rituals for the one they loved, regardless of whether they were in a serious relationship or not. It seemed like a very illogical holiday, even by human standards, but it was one that he knew Kirk took very seriously.
The instant the time on Kirk's console finally showed the end of his shift, he bolted straight out of his chair and flew into the elevator on the other side of the bridge. He moved so fast, it almost seemed as if he teleported instead of ran. In the blink of an eye, the elevator door closed and the captain disappeared.
Everyone on the bridge exchanged curious looks except for Spock, who simply stared at the elevator with a raised eyebrow. What did Kirk have planned?
Paying it no mind, Spock excused himself from his shift after his relief arrived, rattled from nearly being run over by the Captain, and left the bridge to find something to occupy himself until Kirk called on him.
333
Spock sat in the recreation room in front of the three tiered chess board and sighed. Something about playing chess alone didn't seem a substantial enough distraction. He had come to love playing chess with Kirk and there was little challenge playing against himself. In addition, he missed being able to gaze lovingly at Kirk while he pondered over his next move. The facial expressions he made while he played were - dare he say it out loud - adorable, and a guilty pleasure he indulged in frequently.
After completing his fifth chess game alone, he rose from his seat and took to wondering around the ship instead. Perhaps in his journey he'd find something to occupy him while he waited to Kirk to call for him. It was obvious he had something special planned, but waiting to find out what it was proved to be nerve-wrecking.
As he neared the ship's galley, he caught a whiff of food cooking. Something about the aroma seemed different from what he was used to smelling from the galley; normally he'd smell meat cooking, but from what he could tell, he smelled roasted vegetables. When he approached the door, he saw Kirk's back. He was facing the table in front of him stirring something in a bowl.
Spock quickly pulled back and peeked into the room more covertly so he could hide quickly if Kirk turned around. Kirk hummed a little tune to himself as he stirred the mysterious mixture in the large clear bowl in his arms. From what Spock could see of the mixture, it was what looked to be batter. On a cutting board were various vegetables cut thinly. Well, mostly. Amongst the thin slices of vegetables were a few chunks as well. Spock decided not to pay this any mind, trusting the Captain's cooking abilities.
He looked at the pot that was on the stove and noticed it was bubbling. Without walking in and peeking into the pot, he was able to tell that it was clear water. Perhaps that what the chunks of vegetables were for; Kirk must have been planning to put the chunks of vegetables in the boiling water and frying the vegetable slices.
From the oven a thin stream of steam poured out. The oven's window revealed what looked like large tomatoes roasting inside. He looked at the far end of the table Kirk worked at and noticed an empty bowl. It looked as though it had once held a bread-crumb based stuffing. Spock put two and two together and found out that Kirk stuffed the tomatoes.
The corners of Spock's mouth crept up on his face almost noticeably. He admired Kirk as he hustled to and fro from one part of the galley to the other, mixing a little here and stirring over there. There was something indescribably pleasing about watching someone put forth the effort to cook a hot meal for him and Spock decided he would use some of his free time watching Kirk.
This decision was immediately revised when Kirk suddenly turned around to face the door. He was wiping his hands clean and wasn't really looking at the doorway, but Spock zipped behind the wall anyway. His heart slammed against his side out of fear of being discovered. He swallowed hard and ignored the odd looks that passing crew members gave him. Unsure of when Kirk would turn back around and not wanting to risk being seen, he walked the way he had came back toward the elevator.
Alone in the elevator, Spock smiled more openly. Kirk was diligently preparing him dinner for Valentine's Day. The warmth he felt at his side was strange, but enjoyable. He'd have to think of some way to thank his t'hy'la after dinner…
333
Meditation turned out to be the best way to pass the time while Kirk finished dinner. His meditative peace was interrupted by a knock at his door. His heart began to race, but he rose from the floor slowly and answered the door as if he was none the wiser about Kirk's plans. Kirk grinned comically at Spock when the door opened.
"Hey Spock! You hungry?"
Spock kept his face free of expression, but his voice gave his excitement away. "You are in luck; I was just about to go to the mess hall to dine for the evening."
"Forget the mess hall, I got something better planned," Kirk said, practically bouncing in place. "Come on!"
Spock followed Kirk to his room and drew a small breath of surprise at the sight before him. The more noticeable change in Kirk's room was that it was immaculately clean. Not only were any and all articles of clothing properly placed in the dirty laundry hampers, but the bed was also carefully made, the sheets smoothed out and the pillows fluffed. No knick knacks cluttered his desk or his night stand, no stray dirty dishes scattered around, he even made sure that his bathroom was clean and that his chairs were pushed in!
Aside from the neat setting of the room, in the very center was a small table covered with a red velvet tablecloth. On top of that tablecloth was two plates with rounded metal covers and two classes of chilled water. A candelabrum held long white candles that served as the sole source of light in the room. Next to the candelabrum was a carafe filled with water to refill their glasses when they emptied. The chairs were bronze with red cushions made of the same material as the tablecloth. Next to the silverware was a cream colored napkin that was somehow folded to look like a swan.
Smiling at the shocked look on Spock's face, Kirk snuck past him and revealed the meal he had cooked. On each of the plates was one large tomato stuffed to the brim, their lids perched atop of the stuffing, what looked like mashed potatoes, whipped meticulously and placed with the utmost care next to the tomato, and what appeared to be fried vegetables.
Putting the plate covers aside Kirk pulled out a chair for Spock and motioned for him to sit. Ever the gentleman, Spock thought to himself as he moved to the chair and sat down, allowing Kirk to push him in.
He watched with quiet amusement as Kirk rushed over to his seat and scooted himself under the table. Grinning, Kirk said, "Go ahead and give it a try!"
Spock shook his head and gave a slight smile as he picked up his fork and knife and cut into the tomato. Taking care to maintain the tomato's shape as much as he could, he cut out a slice along with a portion of the stuffing and took a bite. The sweetness of the tomato was brought out perfectly, though the stuffing seemed to be a bit crunchier than he liked. Still, he gave a nod of approval and moved to the fried vegetables.
He never did understand the human obsession with frying foods, but nevertheless he stabbed a few of the sliced vegetables with his fork and brought them to his mouth. He could taste the various spices Kirk used in the batter and appreciated the flavor they created. Unfortunately the vegetables underneath the batter were still quite raw. Instead of a pleasant texture with a slight crunch, he munched on the vegetables as though he had been served them immediately after they were sliced. Given the uncooked state of the vegetables, they were still enjoyable, so he gave another nod of approval, much to Kirk's delight.
The final part of the meal was mashed potatoes. They looked and smelled quite appealing, and Spock found himself almost excited to test them. Scooping a bit onto his fork, he placed the potatoes into his mouth…
…and immediately grabbed his glass of water.
Kirk looked at Spock with wide eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked.
Putting down his glass, which was half full now, Spock looked at Kirk through watery eyes. "Too…salty…"
Kirk tilted his head in confusion and sampled the mashed potatoes on his plate. The minute the mashed potatoes touched his tongue it recoiled to the back of his throat. He too grabbed his glass of water and downed it. Just his luck, he breathed when he should have swallowed and found himself coughing into his water, which splashed onto his face and uniform.
As he coughed into his napkin, Spock rose from his seat and rushed to Kirk's side. Patting his back, he got Kirk to raise his arms in the air and instructed him, "Breathe in deeply."
Kirk did his best to obey, he found himself spluttering and coughing more than breathing. After quite some time, he finally managed to breathe comfortable and Spock was able to return to his seat. With watery eyes, Kirk took a moment to dry himself off before he picked up his fork and began eating the rest of the meal.
The more he ate, the more he realized that the meal he had worked so hard to make didn't taste as wonderful as he had hoped. The stuffing he had been particularly proud of turned out to be very bland. On the plus side, it helped balance out the saltiness of the mashed potatoes. He was now quite happy that he had decided to have a carafe of water handy for refills; by the time the dinner ended, both men had drained the carafe of every drop.
Full, but far from satisfied, Kirk looked up at Spock and asked, "Why didn't you say anything about the meal being poorly cooked? I figured you would have pointed out every little flaw."
Spock looked at Kirk and answered, "I watched you cook the dinner for a short period of time earlier. In watching you, I was able to see the amount of effort you put into the meal, and your excitement was plain to see when you came to my door. In addition, you went through the trouble of cleaning your room for the occasion as well. I could not in good faith scrutinize you for something you tried so hard to do well at."
Wiping his mouth clean, he rose from his seat and moved to Kirk's side. He bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead. Tilting his love's face up so that he could look at him, he gave a small smile. "As you humans so often say, 'it is the thought that counts'. You went through a great deal of trouble on my account so that we could enjoy a peaceful meal alone. That in and of itself makes this meal special, and worth every bite."
Kirk smiled, though sadness still sparkled in his eyes. "Good thing I didn't attempt to make dessert. I probably would've screwed that up too."
A mischievous look appeared on Spock's face as he leaned down and kissed Kirk fully on the lips. Pulling back far sooner than Kirk would've liked, he said, "I am certain we can enjoy dessert another way."
The sheets that Kirk had worked so hard to keep smooth were promptly ruffled and disheveled from the bed. Clothes were discarded and strewn about the room. The candles proved to be great mood lighting even for the after dinner activities. When their activities were through, Kirk barely had enough strength to get up and extinguish them. As he lay in his lover's arms, Kirk found himself glad he went through the trouble to cook for Spock, even if it didn't taste as god as he hoped.
At least he got his desired outcome after dinner.