Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures. But my ideas are genuine. I have a member of the Kirk/Spock slash archive to thank for this challenge topic and I am letting this story grow from there…

Another Academy story! Let me know what you guys think! Reviews are welcome and appreciated!

Absolute Pin

Chapter 1

"Are you gonna eat that?" Piercing blue eyes lock onto the forgotten half of my replicated egg-salad sandwich.

Sighing, I put down my Xenopsychology book and absently flip through my notes from the morning lecture. "Dammit Jim, you've gotta kick these mid-morning, mid-term binges of yours." Rolling my eyes, I try to ignore the sudden motion of Jim snatching my half-eaten lunch with the speed of a starving man at a Kentucky buffet.

"C'mon Bones, you know it's only for a couple of days after cramming. Now, fork over your coffee and put it on my personal tab." Jim grins.

"Remind me why we're friends again?" Grumbling, I shove my coffee cup across the mess table towards the human garbage disposal.

"Because you charmed me with your conveniently placed upchuck." He tosses me that vulgar grin of his that always has women drop their morals along with their clothes. All the while, drinking my coffee, no less.

"Didn't we draw even with that debt during your last run-in with peanuts?" Gathering my books and stuffing them unceremoniously into my messenger bag, I get a garbled sarcastic laugh from around the last two bites worth of my sandwich from Jim's loud mouth.

"Ah, you'll still love me when I'm sixty-four, right Bones? You just pretend to put up with me."

Frowning, I follow Jim out into the main hall of the recreational building, "Why sixty-four?"

Heaving a long sigh, Jim weaves through other students with a bored expression, "It's a song, Bones…"

"I don't listen to the racket kids call music these days."

"Yeah, well maybe you should. The fact that you don't only shows your age." Scanning the old flier board hung up along the east wall, Jim issues a short bark of laughter and plucks a tasteful page from its peg, waving it before my face, "Look, the answer to all your problems!"

Grabbing the page out of my face, I scan the bold seller line and pixilated picture advertising: 'Learn excellent mating skills!' Rolling my eyes, I con the flier off onto Jim, "They mean check-mating, idiot. That's for the chess club." I start walking towards the dorms again, "And you know I can't play chess."

"Well, maybe you should have learned." Jim catches up to my side.

"Right, I highly doubt a strategic game of chess could have saved my marriage, Jim. The only thing that could have helped would be a game of poker, then at least I could have had a shot at winning back half my life." I snap sourly, wishing I'd missed Jim's little jibe:

"Or lost your bones…"

Turning, I glare at my friend and roommate, considering whether to lock him out of our room or not.

"Sulu has the override code, so don't even bother." Jim gloats, swaggering past me into our dorm room.

Oh yeah, awesome, who needs an alarm clock when you could just wake up to a view like this every morning? Granted, then I'd always be late to class, or better yet, a no-show.

Twin, supple orbs of womanly flesh fill my first morning view this lazy Saturday. Which totally beats seeing a scruffy, grumbling Bones in briefs and a beard a million-to-one.

What's this one's name again? I could swear she told me somewhere in the short conversation between her second dackery and my third beer… Turning over, I lean past the edge of the bed and sweep my hand along the floor until I feel the hot leather skirt she wore last night under my fingertips. Rummaging through the pockets, I find her student I.D. card and squint at the writing, muttering, "Janice?"

"Mnn?"

The blond stirs next to me and I quickly shove her things back onto the floor. "Heeey…Janice." I plaster a smile on my face as she snuggles into my chest. What kind of name is Janice, anyway? Foregoing an awkward post one-night-stand coddling, I pull out the excuse that actually puts Bones to good use every now and again, "Um, my roommate-"

And that's all I can get out before Janice is fully awake, "Oh, oh my god, yeah! I'm so late to class, I'm so dead!" She almost kneels on my nuts in her haste to get out of bed and gather her clothes.

Propping my head up in one hand, I appreciate the show as she panics, "Crap, I'll see you around then?" She initiates the awkward dance of kiss to cheek and lips before shoving her feet into her high-heels.

"Mhmm." Is my noncommittal answer and Janice is so ready to get out of my room that she doesn't even press further, just as most don't.

"Thanks for last night, it was-" she snatches up her bag and backs towards the door, gesturing with her hands like a game of charades, "amazing!" She finally blurts like it's an add-lib.

"Any time." Folding my arms behind my head, I watch and give a little wave as Janice slips out into the hall at last.

Not two seconds after the door closes does it open again to reveal an annoyed Bones. "Christ, have you no shame? Please tell me you at least made it to the correct bed this time?"

"Of course Bones, your precious sheets are completely unKirk-ified." Smirking, I jab a finger at the disgruntled doctor's desk chair, "Can't say the same for your chair though."

"My God man, I leave for one night to be with my daughter and what do I come back to?" His voice fades as he shuffles into the bathroom for his trusty can of Lysol.

"What's that?"

He returns to spray the hell out of his desk chair, "I return to find you've mated on every available surface like a rabbit." He pauses, scowling, "Now, rabbits are cute. This ain't cute, Jim."

Best to get him off this jealous topic, "How's the spoiled princess?"

"Oh, as argumentative as ever, barely let me have a moment alone with my own flesh and blood."

"No, not Dragon-Lady, I meant Joanna."

Bones gives me that 'look' he always uses when I diss his ex-wife. "Jo's alright, she's going through a new phase."

"What is it this time, a new favorite color that ends up costing you a fortune to re-do her room?" I haul my ass out of bed, walking in the nude to our bathroom to take a well-needed leak.

"No, much worse, it's unicorns now." Bones grumbles from his desk, no doubt starting a long day of studying for retake exams.

"You mean those magical horses with the horns on their heads?"

"They aren't real Jim, they're a fantasy creature. And who ever created them obviously didn't have a young daughter of their own."

Turning on the shower, I catch a peek at the clock, "Why didn't they call them unihorns?"

I hear Bones laugh, "I think there would be some upset parents with a name like that for a kid's toy." There's a grunt of disapproval, then, "Close the damn door, Jim."

After washing up, I wipe the foggy mirror clear with a piece of paper only to find it's that chess flier. Peeling it away wet, I piece it back together and read the details. Saturdays from noon to four? Hell, why not? I haven't played chess since high school. And back then, it was only to get Macy Roberts naked. Needless to say, I got pretty good at it. And who knows, maybe there's a prize for the best player? Sure is better than sitting around here watching Bones pull his fucking hair out and ultimately passing out on his textbooks. So I dry off and dress myself in jeans and a plain T-shirt.

"Where're you going off too?" Bones mumbles from his vigil over the chaos of his desk.

"I'm going to go brush up on my mating skills." Smirking, I pull on my shoes.

"Oh God, leave some ladies for the under-dog."

Laughing, I leave Bones to his own self-destruction.

It's ten past noon when I finally wander into the Rec. building, snagging a banana from the mess hall. It's not too hard to find this chess club thing since it's drawn quite the crowd already.

"He beat him in only five moves, he cornered him! It was amazing!" Some beatnik cadet crows at the entrance.

Peeling my piece of fruit, I take a bite and meander farther into the room, listening to the excited voices around me. There are a few tables from the mess hall erected helter-skelter with some pairs of chairs and chess boards. But all the commotion seems to be at the center of a group of uniforms and muttering students. I push my way through until I can see a nervous cadet playing a Vulcan on a 3D chess board.

"Who's that?" I mutter to the young kid I've seen in my Engineering class. Some foreign kid with a Russian accent who doesn't look a day over fifteen, supposedly some genius or something.

"That is Professor Spock from Astro-Physics. He is playing cadet Vilson."

"Who?"

The kid blinks, "Vilson." He repeats.

Oh, he must mean Wilson but his accent totally slaughters the surname. Now I recognize the staff member playing Wilson, I have his class this semester and I've heard about the horrors of his assignments. I've also heard about the flight simulator test graduates are required to take that he designed and programmed to simulate the Kobayashi Maru disaster. It's also kind of hard to miss the only Vulcan currently at the academy, especially when the sea of students practically part for him like royalty.

Wilson slumps with relief as the cool, dispassionate voice announces, "Checkmate."

I stare at the tri-dimensional board and pick apart the last few moves. This guy is good, but is it really fair? I mean, he's Vulcan, they can do this shit in their sleep practically. The only way to beat a logical player is to use illogical strategies.

Several of Wilson's buddies pat him on the shoulder as the guy slowly relaxes again, "Thank you, Sir. Good game." He makes the awkward mistake of extending a hand to shake his Vulcan opponent's and a sudden uncomfortable and pitying silence descends over the crowd.

Professor Spock practically gives him the stink-eye, glancing up from reorganizing the game pieces and ignoring the human gesture, "You are welcome, Cadet Wilson." He replies humorlessly.

I take another bite of banana, glad I decided to sniff this place out. This is way better than the reality feeds! Hiding a smile by chewing, I watch an uncomfortable Wilson retreat and retract his forgotten pally hand shake.

As Professor Spock leans back in his seat, a hush falls over the onlookers as confidence and courage is rallied for another challenger. Clearing my throat, I edge forward and the foreign kid grabs my arm with wide eyes, "He'll crush you, Kirk!" He hisses under his breath.

Shaking him off, I shrug, "The worst he can do is hurt my pride." I chuckle, "What is this, an execution?" Dropping into the folding chair opposite the Vulcan, I raise my banana as greetings and grin as a perfect brow arches my way.

"Certainly not, Mr. Kirk. This function is merely a competent diversion; a chance for players to exercise and expand their strategic skills."

Jesus, did he just spout computer at me there? Should I even try to make an answer to that? "Uh, okay then." I manage with a sliver of intelligence.

"White has the first move, Mr. Kirk." He deadpans.

"Yeah, I know…" Ignoring the almost imperceptible sigh in the Vulcan's tone, I let one of my knights descend a level on the multi-level board. It's an amatuer move but I'm not really paying much attention to the game. Instead, I watch my opponent hesitate, look at me as if to reassess my skill, before making a counter move. His strategy is practically by the book and I throw another useless move out there to see if I can upset his groove by confusing him.

Finally, after the third suicide move, Spock decides to bite, "Mr. Kirk, if you do not intend to play seriously and with the intent to learn, I suggest we continue this game at a later time when you are sufficiently prepared."

He's pretty long-winded, isn't he? "I am serious." Grinning, I finish my banana and stare at the Vulcan across the table from me, not intending to be the first to look away. No doubt, he's picked up on the unspoken challenge for he hasn't' even blinked once yet!

The foreign kid is at my side again, crouching by my chair and whispering to me, "Professor Spock holds the title of Grand Master in the National Chess League! You von't win, Kirk!"

Frowning, I don't let my gaze stray as I tilt my chin and ask, "What's your name again, kid?"

"Pavel Chekov."

"And how old are you, Chekov?"

The kid actually beams, "Sewenteen."

"Right." I drop the banana peel onto his curly-haired head. "Get rid of that for me, 'kay?" Leaning forward, I crack my knuckles and move one of my pieces in towards Mr. Spock's bishop. "Let's play."