Use Somebody
Part Two: (Take) Advantage
Disclaimer: I own Star Trek. Yeah, I said it. What? Big ballin. Make that money, don't let it make you!
It took all of Spock's formal training to quell the embarrassment and panic that was burning him from the inside out.
He focused a strict gaze on Nyota, who was slowly but surely sliding off of his lap. "Go."
When she started to protest, Spock emphatically repeated his command. "Cadet, go. Now."
Her eyes were wide with fear but Spock couldn't let the emotional need to calm her impede what had to happen. Her movements were jerky as she backed slowly away from him as if waiting for a retraction on his part. However, Spock had turned his attention to the larger problem, the fellow commander who was watching the scene unfold with smug bemusement. The two stared each other down until Nyota pressed the keypad by the door and left the laboratory.
After a moment, Commander Thompson looked at the ceiling as if expected there to be an answer there as to what had just transpired.
"What the hell are you thinking, Spock?"
Thinking? What did thinking have to do with affection? With Nyota? Spock understood the concept of thinking very well, as that was how he has spent the majority of his life, and his relationship obviously had nothing to do with that action whatsoever, otherwise he wouldn't have gotten into it in the first place. They were going against regulations, he was going against tradition and training. There was certainly no thinking involved. He often pondered if perhaps he was so tired of indulging his "thinking" that he gave his relationship with Nyota more importance than logically warranted.
"I have difficulty developing a sufficient answer for you."
Spock stood up, straightening his uniform as best he could to restore whatever dignity he had left. Thompson clicked his tongue and approached him, making Spock feel like an animal trapped in the corner of a cage.
"What shade is that?" Thompson smirked, pointing at a place on Spock's face.
Running his fingertips along the place the commander indicated, Spock felt an oily residue on the skin at the corner of his mouth. He pulled his hands back to find a smudge of pink pressed into the design of his fingerprint. Lipstick. Spock stared for a moment at the way the makeup stained his identity, highlighting the unique pattern that marked him as different from every other man in the universe.
"Looks like pretty in pink, Mr. Spock."
"Commander Thompson," Spock began, but Thompson held up a hand to stop him midsentence. He leaned seriously against a cabinet and looked at Spock wearily, adjusting his glasses while he searched for words.
With a sigh, the Commander finally spoke. "You must cease the relationship at once."
Spock looked at the ground briefly before realizing that such an expression made him look weak, like he was being admonished by his father. If any situation required for him to be a man, it was this one. Straight backed, tall, looking his consequences directly in the eye. Bringing his eyes back up to meet Thompson's, Spock tried to think of a proper way to reply. However, just behind Thompson, Nyota's bag was still resting on the cabinet where she had propped as she came in. That was enough to break his resolve again. What was it with this woman always leaving things behind to remind him that he couldn't just forget her?
"Commander," Spock began, but his tongue felt thick. There was no real answer to give Thompson, and Spock was resolved to tell the truth. "I am not sure if I can..."
Thompson squinted at him like he would a strange insect under a microscope.
"Hell man, you're a Vulcan, the idea that you of all people would go against regulation like this…"
"It is indeed highly illogical…"
The idea of Vulcan impropriety, not commonly used against him by a human, stung. He couldn't please the world, it seemed. If he'd been a human, would the Commander be giving him "high fives"? Probably not, Spock decided after registering his illogical thought as that of useless sarcasm. Thompson was still a Starfleet commander and as such surely respected his place just as much as Spock did. They had a duty and a name to uphold.
Thompson reached out his arms and pushed Spock back into the seat he'd previously been occupying, and Spock couldn't help but feel like a child once more. It was the same way his father would always speak to him, placing him at a lower level somehow to show his dominance. Thompson crossed his arm though and frowned, a very human expression.
"…Look, I'm not talking to you as a commander, I'm talking to you as a friend…As someone who has watched you work harder than anyone else to get to where you're at…If someone finds out about this, you will be rung across coals…"
Spock let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "It seems, commander, that someone has found out about this…"
Thompson shook his head. "…And you better be damn glad it was me that found out and not someone else…"
That was not a phrasing Spock had anticipated. "Are you suggesting you will not inform--"
"No one is going to hear about this from me, Spock. You're too good, too vital to Starfleet. I can't in good conscious deny it one of the brightest minds we've ever come across because he's young and likes a girl."
Spock resisted the urge to blush and remained passive, staring the commander down. For the first time ever, Spock wondered if this is how his students that complained of him being condescending felt. Logic spoke up and told his somewhat indignant humanity that there was much worse things that could happen as a consequence of his actions than being talked down to.
"But let me make myself very clear…I think you have to end this. I'm not going to make you, that's your business…But you should use your head. This is your career, her career too. It's a lot of work to throw away."
The commander shrugged, his graying hair falling a little into his eyes. Spock didn't know what to say. The panic that had flooded him at his intimate intrusion was still there but not nearly as rallied as before. Was he going to, as the Terrans said, get away with it Scott free? Before he could question the commander further on what action he planned to take, Thompson was shrugging and heading for the door.
"Be sure to clean up that mess," he commented, pointing briefly to the vile of liquid that Nyota had knocked off the desk.
Spock was speechless. The only thing he knew to do now was find Nyota.
Commander Thompson was what his friends referred to as a "tricky fellow" and what his enemies labeled a "real son of a bitch". When even your friends have difficulty phrasing your characteristics in a positive light, the bluntness of an enemy is usually more accurate.
An average student, dedication and brownnosing got him a steady professorship and he really had no aspirations for anything more rigorous. He documented his favors to others in a little journal kept in the top drawer of his desk, and made sure they paid up when he needed them. He called it Karma.
It was also important to note just how much Thompson liked things. Not simply enjoyed, but coveted and desired. Thompson liked a drink before work. He liked the way his uniform brought out the color of his eyes. He liked to watch old 20th century television. He liked cursing in front of soldiers and praying in front of nuns.
He also liked power. He liked leaning over his female students desks. He liked writing "see me after class" at the top of a pretty girl's paper.
He liked taking naïve but talented students and novice commanders under his wing to see how far he could bend them.
But, more than anything, he absolutely fucking adored putting offworlders in their place. Starfleet was supposed to be an institution of acceptance and discovery, a prep school for universal peace. However, Thompson was the type to laugh inwardly through every sensitivity training session, scoff at every planet to planet treaty. Peace couldn't exist in a universe where beings couldn't even agree on units of measure. Best to back your own kind and keep a phaser set to stun for the inevitable moment when some green or purple or highlighter yellow creature who'd skipped a step in evolution decided to pounce.
So, when Thompson found Spock, the half-Vulcan abomination pressed close to the bosom of a good old fashioned human girl, he had to swallow back bile. Thompson tolerated Spock and even pretended to mentor the distinctive graduate for the sole purpose of keeping a handy tool around when necessary. He kept all of his computers on standby, after all. That was the only way he could accept Spock's presence, though. The Vulcan had to be placed in the category of his mind he usually reserved for science equipment, and if some of the other Starfleet professors were honest with themselves, they thought of Spock the same way. Toleration could be allowed for some races of aliens if they could behave in a proper manner, but there was something so disgusting about the idea of a human laying with one of those elves and procreating that rendered Thompson physically ill.
He wasn't naïve. It might not be popular now or completely accepted, but eventually as years passed and barriers were broken down, more and more Vulcans and Humans would intermingle and attempt to do just as Spock's parents had. Sure, he could accept that Spock was able to function, but that was just about it. Breathe, eat, compute. For all Thompson knew, Spock could be mentally defunct in other areas. What the fuck was he doing with a human girl?
Crossbreeding and mixing, serving up modified genetics with a smile and a nod as if there was nothing ungodly about it at all. If that was the future face of humanity, Thompson gave a hearty no thanks and hoped he died before the whole of Earth was spotted with one eyed, one horned, flying, purple people eaters. Not to mention the social liberties that would be parroted through the media, half breeds demanding their equal piece of Earth freedom, coming to his home planet and exploiting it when theirs was no longer viable, claiming rights. What about good old fashioned humanity? It would be a 21st Century immigration battle all over again.
Thompson decided within a split second how this was all going to go down between him and Spock. Best show a loyal face, at first of course. He did what he best—acted like the tricky son of a bitch that he was, and played with his food. He knew the computer boy would submit to logic in the end, and Thompson would get to have a little bit of blackmail he could use at a future date.
But then suddenly, as Thompson made his way across the campus, a much more interesting idea struck him. He remembered that Spock wasn't the only person involved in this tryst. Two for the price of one, or maybe just a bonus. Either way, Thompson glanced at his watch and realized the night was young. With almost a skip in his step, he headed back to his own office.
He sat down at the large oak desk and opened his drawers, looking around for his box of mints. Popping two, Thompson quickly sent a message out to…he scanned his mind for a moment, trying to remember the pretty girl's name…Uhota? No…Uhura. Yes. That was it.
Once the message was sent, Thompson leaned back in his chair and played the waiting game.
Author's Note: Regarding the reviews—While the idea of Spock and Uhura getting caught is somewhat amusing, I don't warn that a story will be "DARK" unless I mean just that. If you get the type of character Thompson is, he really is capable of just about anything, and I do mean anything, so you have been warned. Nothing to raise ratings, but there will be violence, and I'm not sugar. Also, on that note, this will be a T rated fic and I won't be doing any smut. I'm no good at it. My style when it comes to love scenes it to put actions into words. Sexuality is messy, but you can play with diction and syntax in order to create something pretty. I like my readers to get all the mental pictures they need from what vocabulary I choose to use and the rhythm with which I write. Sorry folks, that is as explicit as I get, but I hope it's all still steamy.