Romi curse an entire pantheon's worth of deities. "Yes and no." She sighed.
They just looked a bit confused. Must be because a minute ago she was laughing like a crazy person, has blonde hair, and cartilage piercings in trademarked pointed ears. How come they didn't notice her eyebrows though? She hadn't waxed them in weeks—oh, right, growing out her bangs. "I'm half human."
"Ah," Jim said, looking more interested than anything malicious. McCoy just continued to stare. A kind of stare that Romi was all too familiar with and would rather be pre-emptive about. Otherwise she'd get into a fight with a total stranger on a cramped shuttle flight. Again.
"I'd just ask that all xenophobic or stereotypical remarks and/or questions be held until the end of the flight, reminding you that I am in easy rang of both of your genitals." She gave a cold smile as they crossed their legs. "Well, now that that's settled. I'm thinking navigations track. How about you?" She asked, more focused on Kirk.
"Command track." He responded cheerily."
"I'm a doctor. Dammit—" He started turning a rather interesting shade of green and had to put his head down between his legs. Both blondes looked at him before returning to their conversation.
"So, your piercings are really cool." Jim commented, pointing. Romi had three piercings in each ear, two on the lobe and one cartilage piercing.
"Thank you."
"Did you get them back home in…" he fished. Romi wasn't sure if he was being flirty (most guys were too intimidated by the pointed ears and eyebrows to ever try anything), but Romi decided that—based on initial observations—that she liked Jim Kirk. McCoy…insufficient data.
"I'm from Italy. Milan to be precise." She answere. "And you?"
"Iowa, born and raised."
"Interesting. Did you decide to join after seeing the Enterprise's construction?" She asked, hoping that wasn't too personal.
"…partially." He answered. She tilted her head, sensing the hesitation. Do not pursue that line of conversation.
"Any classes you're looking forward to?" She decided diplomatically.
"Um…uh…I guess I'll find out when we get there. I'm sure they'll be fun." He smiled.
"Did you not review your class schedule?"
"I technically haven't…applied yet. But I'll get it straightened up when we land."
"So your plan was to board just shuttle, and show up at Starfleet Academy despite the enrollment process taking weeks, and requires, among other things, an application, and a personal essay? Not to mention housing arrangements, meal plans, transfer of medical records—which, admittedly there will be an examination when we land, but they have to have you on the list to begin with. No offense Jim but this plan of yours sounds rather…illogical."
"Logic logic logic. What is it with you Vulcans and always going on and on about logic?" Bones grumbled, apparently getting himself together enough to sit back up.
"That was literally the first time I have said that word in the entirety of this conversation. Wait—'you Vuclans'?"
"Um, guys?" Jim was trapped in the middle, and feeling more than a bit uncomfortable.
"I was being hyperbolic. It means that—"
"I know what it means, I'm not an idiot." And they were ignoring him. Great.
"I never said you were an idiot. And I didn't mean to imply it either. 'No offense where there is none offered', right?." He tried to offer as a weak olive branch. Romi was feeling petty though, she decided to set it on fire.
"First off all, it's 'no offense is taken where none is offered'. Second, you don't get to say 'you Vulcans' then turn around and try to quote a teaching of Surak like you didn't make a sweeping assumption about not only me, but an entire species. Third, you have some nerve telling me how I should feel. Given that some of us actually showed up here sober and not drinking the hair of the dog that bit you." Bitch. She mentally added.
"Hey—low blow, you don't—look, you're angry and you're twisting my words."
Jim sat back in his chair, and decided to just let the fireworks happen.
"A Southerner getting upset when his offensive stereotyping is being pointed out, how original."
"Will you stop?!" He growled out. "I didn't mean it that way and you damned well know that, now I've apologized already so can you just—" he stopped, clenching his jaw.
"Just what?" No response. "Just spit it out already!"
A poor choice of words, as McCoy then threw up all over Jim's shoes. They were all silent, each one contemplating and re-evaluating certain things.
Romi took a mental breath. Yeah, that was petty and immature. She could blame it on her upbringing, Romi was Italian, hot-blooded and loved to argue. But that wouldn't do anything or help anyone.
So she reached into her pocked. "Would you like a tissue?" She offered it as a peace offering. McCoy looked at it, then looked at her.
"Sure. Thanks." He said, not really looking at her. He took a few from the package before handing it back to Romi.
"Jim, would you also like a tissue?" She offered.
Grateful that the fighting had stopped, Jim gave a small smile. "Thank you Romi, I would really appreciate that." She handed him the whole pack, the implication being: 'take as many as you need, you need it more than I do'.
As the guys tried to clean themselves up best they could, Romi looked off to the side, suddenly feeling shame. Say something, you idiot. "I'm, um, sorry." Unfortunately, she could never completely swallow her pride. "That I don't have any wipes or—"
"It's cool." Jim assured with a smile.
"It's—it's fine." McCoy said, clutching the tissues in his tight fist as if to metaphorically hold onto his dignity.
"So…um." Jim tried to clear up the awkward silence. "How's Milan this time of year?" He asked, returning to their previous conversation."
"It's beautiful." Romi conceded. They both glanced at Leonard McCoy, but he seemed to be done talking.
"You know, I don't think I've ever been to Italy, but I once spent this really amazing weekend in Spain…" The shuttle ride continued much the same way. Jim and Romi chit-chatted while Leonard just sat there and desperately tried to hold onto his pride—and his lunch.
Any attraction he may have initially had towards her was thrown out the nearest airlock after the barbs they'd traded. (And realistically, he saw she was rather attractive…for a pointed eared bastard). He'd known he was a fucking mess. He had issues up the wazoo. But you know what? She didn't know his life! Try having his life, see how sober you were! Fucking Vulcans. Fucking Jocelyn. Fucking god damned universe for getting his daddy sick and then rub salt in the wounds by coming out with the cure less than two weeks later!
He took a deep breath, this train of thought wouldn't lead him anywhere pleasant. To try and distract himself, he checked back into what the Blondes were talking about.
She appeared to be telling him a story about how how she broke the arm of an unwanted suitor.
"It was an accident. Well, mostly an accident."
"I should find that threatening, but from you, Pixie, it just adds to your charm."
Great. Just great.
While in reality the shuttle ride from Iowa to San Francisco only took about two hours or so, it was a small eternity to Doctor Leonard McCoy.
He practically kissed the ground when they landed, while the kid was still flirting with the Vulcan, promising to hang out later after they got settled in.
Oh, and he had almost forgotten the best part. As they were getting their room assignments for the men's dorms, they came across the utterly wonderful discovery that they were roommates. McCoy tried to protest, but was told that all other available situations were filled. So unless he wanted to shell out credits he didn't have to get an apartment close to campus, he was stuck with the blonde for the next few months.
"Cheer up Bones, it'll be fun." Jim stated before claiming one of the beds. Len had merely rolled his eyes, sighed, and started unpacking. He had a feeling he would be doing the former two a lot more as time went on.
Especially if Jim was seriously going to be hanging out with DiValdi, whom he had nicknamed 'Pixie'. What was it with the kid and nicknames? Must have been the ears and the utterly charming demeanor.
What would you prefer? A monotone robot who's every other word is 'illogical'? Hell no. Despite what the little 'Pixie' accused him of, he wasn't racist or xenophobic, (he hated everyone equally) but there was something about Vulcans that had always just rubbed him the wrong way.
As he tucked himself at the end of the day, he took a photo off the nightstand. Joanna, his baby girl. Light of his life. As much as he resented Jocelyn for demanding full custody, a distant part of him couldn't blame her.
When his dad had gotten sick, it had Leonard's full attention. Jocelyn and his baby girl, who should have been the light of his life became an afterthought as he poured over papers, test results, and notes. Despite his best efforts, he hadn't been able to save him. Then he'd been an emotional wreck, barely able to take care of himself, let alone a toddler.
It would be a very long time before Leonard McCoy realized that getting served divorce papers would be one of the best things that had ever happened to him.
Romi DiValdi stared up at her ceiling fan, watching it go around in circles. Her body still hadn't caught up with the time difference, and she was really hoping to fall asleep now so she wouldn't in class later on. (Logically, she know she could go over three days without sleep before any negative effects set in, but she still liked sleep.)
After splitting up from the rather interesting James T. Kirk and the airsick but possibly xenophobic Leonard McCoy, she had found out that she had gotten the oh-so rare and sought after single bedroom. Not to mention, a special piece of cargo she had teleported in from Milan had arrived safely as well. In fact, it was currently curled up on her chest and snoozing.
"Aren't pets prohibited?"
"Not strictly, besides, you gonna say no to this cute face?" Romi held up Katniss. The black munchkin cat started licking at Jim's face.
Inevitably, her thoughts started drifting towards the events of that morning. Had she been out of line? While Romi was far past her angsty self-hating pre-teen years, she still knew her faults. And a big one was pride. She'd been absolutely livid at being grouped in with all the other Vulcans, probably because all the other Vulcans had made it explicitly clear how un-Vulcan and there for unwanted she was.
When she was six years old, her mother received a position at the Vulcan Science Academy, and they had moved to the desert planet. She loved the scenery, and the school, but hated the people. The lack of emotion freaked her out and a group of students had decided that she was 'an unwelcome half-breed' and had no place there. Romi had managed to keep from crying until she came back to the house, and tried to dye her hair in an attempt to fit in. As her father scrubbed the motor oil from her hair, the tears of sadness and self-pity had turned to tears of rage and hate.
Despite this, she tried to play her part, be the good little Vulcan everyone demanded. Then one day, they'd gone too far and she'd lost her temper. Two of them ended up having to go the hospital. She had gotten a stern talking-to, but her father at least, didn't seem to be all that mad at her.
That night, they argued. They underestimated her sense of hearing, and forgot to shut the door to mom's office, allowing her to overhear.
"I told you, bringing Romi to Vulcan was a mistake."
"She does seem to be ill-suited to the cultural norm."
"Cultural norm?! T'Kohl, she has no friends, she hates it here, and if those girls were any indication, the feeling is mutual." There had been a pause. "I can get my old job back on the force in Milan, no problem. It'll be just like old times, mi amore."
"You think so?" Her mother had asked.
"I know so. Besides, if I have to hear how 'illogically emotional' I am over my daughter one more time, I'll break someone myself."
"That would be an amusing sight, my husband."
"Amusing? I was going for sexy."
So, the next day, they pulled her from school, packed up their things and headed back to Earth. Her mother, who was a virologist, quit her post at the Vulcan Science Academy, and gained tenure at the University of Rome. For a long while, Romi had never fully appreciated how much her mother had to give up for her family. And how much Giacomo DiValdi had given up to go to Vulcan in the first place. He had hated living there almost as much as his daughter had.
Romi closed her eyes. Thinking about the past wouldn't change anything. Neither would thinking about a certain scruffy doctor with crazy eyes who had made her laugh.