Chapter 2: Primary Colors
Spock eventually managed to calm himself, invoking the mind rules and refocusing his attention onto his dinner companions. Dr. McCoy was ebullient on the subject of his best friend, James Kirk, and Spock tried hard not to question him closely about the young artist. According to McCoy, Kirk was brilliant, articulate, and creative, with a unique personality, consistent with the truly artistic and eccentric. Spock was eager to find out what, if any of that, was true.
When he finished his speech, Spock was illogically excited and nervous when Kirk joined them at their table. Part of Spock's nature wanted nothing more than to escape, the other wanted to sit and watch Kirk's every move, observing the ebb and flow of his mental signature.
Nyota couldn't be pried loose from her prize, though. If she could win Kirk over with her patented social skills, it would be a professional coup, which wouldn't go unnoticed by the senior partners of her law firm. Spock watched as she made conversation, gently drawing Kirk out. Under Nyota's questioning, he seemed to be essentially a shy man, despite his public speaking abilities, avoiding eye contact and answering her direct questions sparingly.
Spock took his time studying Kirk. He was younger than Spock, probably in his early thirties, medium height, with an athletic build that reminded Spock of a gymnast. He had dark blond hair and expressive hazel eyes, set in a boyishly handsome face. He was unremarkable on the whole, until he smiled. His easy grin was unselfconscious and winsome, telegraphing a bright personality that literally, from Spock's point of view, shone.
Spock had little to say; he merely watched the conversation flowing around him, occasionally inserting a dry barb. Every once in a while, Nyota look over at him, confusion on her face. She knew Spock was having a strong reaction to Kirk, she just didn't know why. Their relationship included limited telepathy, but as it was not a full bond, Nyota couldn't pick up on the nuances of his emotion.
Spock's attention was distracted momentarily as Scott approached their table. With Spock's permission, he swept Nyota out onto the dance floor, leaving Spock alone with the Doctor and Kirk. Silence fell and Spock felt the weight of Kirk's gaze on him. He didn't notice McCoy making his apologies and slipping away to the bar. He had a momentary panic when he realized they were alone.
Kirk cleared his throat and smiled. "Well, Mr. Spock, do you like what you see?"
Spock's throat closed, he stared at Kirk, transfixed.
"You are aware, I am sure, you are projecting a strong mental aura?"
Kirk looked at him with surprise. "No, and I'm sorry if it's upsetting you. I've never had anyone mention it before."
Spock shook his head. "Indeed, that is quite odd. I am trying to ascertain if it is a Vulcan perception or a telepathic one."
"I would guess it must be a Vulcan perception, although the Vulcan representatives at the banquet haven't shown much interest in me. Not that it's a bad thing, and, no offense, Vulcan telepathy makes me anxious. Honestly, though, I have never met one before."
"A Vulcan or a telepath?"
Jim laughed, a warm sound coming from deep in his chest. "A Vulcan, I suppose, though I did meet the Vulcan Ambassador a few minutes ago. He made me nervous."
Spock nodded in agreement, "No doubt."
Jim cocked his head, curious. "Don't take this wrong, Mr. Spock, but you seem different from other Vulcans."
Spock drew himself up; he had an illogical need to make Kirk like him, to understand him. For once in his life, he didn't care about the perceptions of others, only this one man.
"Perhaps it is because I am not truly Vulcan. I am half human and I have lived among you for well over a decade."
"Ah, with one of us in particular, I'd guess. She is lovely by the way. You seem happy, no, sorry . . . well matched."
It was Spock's turn to look puzzled. "If you are referring to Miss Uhura, she is an exceptional female. Our relationship has been quite acceptable, up to this point."
Kirk smiled, noting the qualification. He didn't like to think of himself as an opportunist but he never turned away a potential prospect. In this case, he was willing to step on some toes to get to know Spock better. Kirk leaned forward. "Granted. But I wonder . . . what comes after . . . this point?"
"Well, Mr. Kirk, that depends on many factors. Tell me, do you dance?"
Kirk laughed out loud. Damn if Spock wasn't flirting with him. "Call me Jim and I do."
Spock stood and instinctively held out his hand. When Jim took it, Spock froze. If he thought Jim's aura was impressive, he was unprepared for the sheer power of his personality, even through Spock''s mental shields. For a moment, Spock felt out of control, emotion seething through him. This man compelled him, completed him. He'd never noticed the lack, but he knew Jim was like an essential element, necessary to his very being.
Spock led Jim onto the dance floor, noting absently that the music was slow, a romantic jazz ballad, popular perhaps a decade ago. He placed his hands on Jim's hips and felt a brief moment of euphoria when Jim's arms wound around his shoulders. As the band played, they swayed together, moving out of time.
Spock closed his eyes, cheek resting against Jim's temple, breath warm against his cheek. He realized he would be content to hold him in his arms forever.
Jim, for his part, knew this had to be wrong somehow. There was something fragile about Spock, unknowable. Jim knew he should keep this causal, businesslike. He need the professional contact, he didn't need to get wrapped up with Spock emotionally. Besides, he belonged to another who probably wouldn't be willing to help Jim's career if he stole her boyfriend or consort, or whatever they were to each other. Yet, Jim had to be honest, there was something about Spock that was drawing him on such a basal level, he couldn't let go of him. Held in Spock's arms, he was whole in a way he had never been before.
Neither one of them noticed Nyota dancing close by, held tightly in Scott's arms. She enjoyed her partner who was solid and strong. Scott was not Spock but the differences were intriguing. Nyota found she relaxed in Scott's arms, appreciating his clear delight in her. But, as they danced by Spock and Kirk, Nyota frowned; her consort was wrapped in Kirk's arms, moving in his embrace, tethered to him in a way he had never been with her.
Suddenly, Nyota realized that Spock, although devoted to her, had never been really emotionally engaged. She loved Spock with all her heart. She didn't want to let him go. She wouldn't let him go. She swallowed and pressed her cheek against Scott's wool jacket. Damn him anyway.
When the music ended, Jim and Spock found themselves on the edge of the dance floor, completely oblivious to the party around them. They had stepped apart, Spock still holding Jim's waist, Jim resting his hands lightly on Spock's shoulders.
This could have been a game to Jim. He'd played men and women before, to gain a sponsor, even to find a willing partner for the night. Jim looked into Spock's deep brown eyes and realized he didn't want to play. Jim watched Spock watch him. He was being consumed by those eyes, searching his face for the answers to questions Jim couldn't imagine. This was potential for disaster. Jim couldn't do this, he couldn't hurt him.
Stepping out of his embrace, he turned and abruptly walked off without saying another word. He refused to give into temptation and look back over his shoulder. If he had, he would have been surprised at Spock's steely determination.
Spock stared after Jim, grateful that his telepathy allowed him to read Jim easily. Jim's internal debate about whether or not to pursue Spock had been laughably obvious. Spock didn't spare a moment regretting reading Jim's surface emotions; he'd been paid well to do much worse in the past. No, he was pleased that Jim seemed conflicted, it made him that much more attractive. The fact that his shy reticence with Nyota earlier had been a ruse was amusing. He had no doubt she hadn't been fooled for a moment.
Spock sighed, the hunt was on. Fortunately, he knew exactly where Jim was going to be for the next few days. He was delighted, for once, that he had agreed to attend the arts conference.
By the time he had returned to the table, Jim was long gone but Nyota was there waiting, a slightly irritated look on her face. Spock raised an eyebrow eloquently and helped her gather her clutch and wrap as they said their farewells. McCoy slurred a goodbye, promising to find them again at the conference the next day.
Spock took Nyota's arm and led her through the crowd. They passed several acquaintances; stopping briefly to speak inconsequentials, so expected at these events, they were second nature. Just before they made their escape, they found themselves confronted by Sarek and his wife, the Lady Amanda.
Nyota's eyes were huge, as she took in the much lauded couple, famous throughout the Federation for their diplomatic skills, influence, and power and yet, Spock's parents. Standing just a few feet from them, there were noticeable cracks in the seamless façade. Sarek was flushed, dark eyes glittering with suppressed emotion. The Lady Amanda, a petite and delicate woman of late middle age, looked at her son with such hope and affection, Nyota was touched. She glanced at Spock quickly, fast enough to see his brown eyes cloud with pain before his emotional shields slammed down, rendering his face unreadable once again.
"Ambassador Sarek, we greet thee . . ." Nyota started introductions with the ta'al and her impeccable Vulcan. Sarek would have none of it and interrupted her in his unaccented Standard, his flat intonation revealing far more emotion that Spock was at the moment.
"My wife and I are aware of who you are Miss Uhura." He looked at Spock coldly and held his gaze. "I request that you attend us tomorrow at the Embassy. Please contact Stonn and make an appointment. We have personal matters to discuss."
"And will my mother also be in attendance?" Spock's voice was even and uninflected but Nyota knew what this cost him.
"Of course." With those two words, Sarek spun, taking the Lady Amanda with him. She sent a beseeching look over her shoulder as he spirited her away. Spock gave no indication he saw it and pulled Nyota towards the Fairmont's lobby.
The ride home was silent, Nyota's annoyance with Spock and Kirk long forgotten. She was almost afraid of him when he got like this, frustration and anger literally seething from him. He was never cruel or violent, but his tightly leashed emotions, were just below the surface.
It is said that Vulcans have no emotions. Based on her observations of Spock at least, that was untrue. Their emotions were barely contained and when they came to light, so powerful; they could be dangerous to the humans around them. Nyota had seen Spock out of control only a couple of times and she would happily forgo ever seeing it again.
When they returned home, they went their separate ways, which was not uncommon. Both needed privacy and rarely spent the night together. Nyota went upstairs to change, returning after a few minutes, to the large kitchen for a glass of sherry, wearing white Egyptian cotton sleep pants and a loose tank that might have originally been Spock's.
She found Spock, sitting on the floor, a bowl of dog food between his knees, talking quietly to their black and white Australian Shepherd, Panda. Panda was more interested in Spock's voice than the ground chicken and beef in front of him. His head was cocked and he watched Spock's face closely, wiggling his joy. Finally, overcome with the attention, he fell over on his side, panting and whining, offering his white belly for petting.
Nyota sat on the hardwood floor next to him, leaning back on the cabinets. Spock didn't acknowledge her but when their hands finally brushed, he grabbed her fingers and gave them a gentle squeeze. He sat back with a sigh and unbuttoned his collar and loosened his tie. The fact that he was sitting on a kitchen floor with a dog and a barely dressed young woman in a suit worth three times what he had been paid as an academic, never made an impression.
"How are you?"
Spock was silent for a couple of beats. "As well as can be expected. I admit to being curious, though. Whatever Sarek wants to speak to me about, is certainly important if he is willing to break almost two decades worth of silence."
Normally Spock was so precise, the vagueness in his voice disconcerted Nyota. He wouldn't admit to being worried, yet he was.
"Your mother is lovely. If nothing else, you must be pleased at least to see her again."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Pleased? Not the word I would have chosen."
Spock sat for a couple more minutes and then stood, giving Panda a final rub, and helped Nyota to her feet. He kept her hand in his and grabbed a red rose from the floral arrangement as they walked up the stairs. Spock led her to her bedroom and she was slightly surprised when he followed her in, pulling her into his arms as soon as the door closed and kissed her.
The rest of the evening was a blur, Nyota had had a fair amount of sherry. It hurt her that Spock might have come to her because he was attracted to Jim Kirk. It hurt her more if Sarek had caused him pain.
Spock set her to rights and after a quick wash, removed the remainder of his suit and laid it neatly across the chair by the bed. Again, to her surprise, he crawled in behind her, drawing up the comforter and curling around her, hands tucked under her breasts. They fell asleep like that, his mouth pressed against the back of her neck, where her soft hair was still damp with sweat.