Ok, Utter random-ness and semi-lame Drabble. Written for Lady Merlin's challenge on her fic 'Sacrifice'
(Btw: Lady Merlin is all kinds of awesome, and you should probably check her out)
Disclaimer: If I owned Star Trek. Sub-text would have degenerated into full blown Slash in the first season.
*****
It's not a big deal.
Really, it's not.
But this is Jim, and anything that should be a big deal gets a smirk and a half hearted shrug and tiny inconsequential things become Epic. Critical. Huge Problems.
A simple sentence. Very, very simple. Yet, the Epic dilemma that presents it's self from that sentence is not simple.
Enterprise is in space dock for a round of upgrades. Scotty been left in command, overseeing everything and no doubt putting the fear of god into the earthbound supply crew. Uhura's off to god knows where, she's not really speaking to Jim right now. Sulu and Chekov have darted off to see the sights of Chekov's beloved 'Mother Russia'. Jim is simply on shore leave, Earth-side for the first time in almost two years. Spock is on New Vulcan, helping the colony with everything he has for the three weeks of the Enterprise's shore leave.
Jim most certainly does not miss him, even a little.
No matter how odd it has somehow become to sleep alone.
It's only been one night, if he has enough fun, Jim is positive he'll be able to sleep tonight. Especially if he turns up the room controls to make the bed stop feeling so cold.
He's restless, unfocused and unwilling to go out picking fights like he used to when he felt this way.
Out to eat with Bones and it's out of no where that the trouble starts.
They've been to this restaurant before, as broke cadets briefly living beyond their means. The best, most mouthwatering items completely out of his price range.
Times have changed, he's now a federation captain, with plenty of credits to spend on whatever he wants. That is not the problem.
He is staring at a gorgeous porterhouse steak (Done just perfectly, with horseradish and herbed butter on top), his mouth has begun to salivate and he's just about to order… when suddenly all he can hear is Spock's gloriously cool, deep voice.
"You taste somewhat of meat."
He hesitates, feeling a little bit of the pinch those words carried. Then part of him rebels, irate that he'd let something as trivial as a fuck-buddy's preference mess with his, once in a blue moon, opportunity to eat wonderfully rare, un-replicated Steak.
Another newer, less irritable part of him, is ambivalent. It scoffs at the irate parts and quietly murmurs.
How hard could it be to be not eat meat for however long it took one of them to tire of the other.
The understanding(Read as: Relationship) between Spock and him is weird(Read as: wonderful, amazing, perfect, unbelievable, almost something like that damned L-word he's been avoiding thinking about). And as much as he's enjoying this odd, wonderful thing with Spock, Jim doesn't expect it to last. He knows better than to expect Spock to stick around too long.
Jim Kirk sends a long pouting glance at the holographic image of tasty beef(according to Spock: murder), and for the first time in his life, ordered a salad.
******