A/N: Hey all, I am back with another chapter. I got just one response last time (Thank you, Laustic) and that's great. But I would still love to hear from the rest of you. Professional authors have editors and newspaper reviewers and whatnot. Us, fanfic authors have you guys and your support, your comments, mean everything.

In other news, my first day at the internship was awesome. Today he did a photo story of toddlers making edible menorahs in class. It was the cutest thing I have ever seen. Also, the family I stay with just got a new guinea pig. She has teddy bear fur and we decided to call her Theodora. But the father of the family insists on calling her Gigi.

Spock really did not want to go turkey shopping. In fact, he wasn't even supposed to. But Zoya had insisted on taking him along despite knowing he was vegetarian.

Captain Pike had invited him and the entire bridge crew and their families of the Enterprise for Thanksgiving, provided they were not visiting family elsewhere. Even though the ship's official service had ended with its destruction in Farhannsu space, the captain insisted the crew was still family. The new flagship of the federation was going to be called the Enterprise- A, but in all likelihood, none of the old crew except for the captain and Dr. Puri would be on it. Zoya had been assigned to the research vessel, USS Fujiwara as the head of the communications and linguistics unit. Commander Tabitha Owens had taken up a faculty position with the academy. The rest of the crew had been assigned to the USS Bradbury.

They had all been invited

And because Hamid lived with Spock, he had been invited too. But right now, he was at home, making preparations for his famous pistachio baklava for dessert. And so, Spock was stuck with Zoya who had given him no choice but to join her for turkey shopping.

"Everyone should shop for a turkey at least once in their life," she said as she looked at the large-sized turkeys. "Also, aren't you responsible for the green beans and those amazing slow-cooked lentils your mom taught you to make?"

"I am," Spock answered, annoyance obvious in his voice. "However, if I do not return to my residence in 30.2 minutes, the lentils will not be served in time tomorrow. They must be simmered overnight after being seasoned and soaked for six hours."

"Oh come on," Zoya scoffed. "You're Vulcan. Everything works faster with you. If you give your stove a death glare, it will cook everything within seconds. And please, don't forget to put mustard on the beans this time. They were very bland last year."

Mustard. Spock hated mustard. He couldn't for the life of him understand why these humans insisted that the beans needed to be covered in mustard as well. Why wasn't olive oil and lemon juice enough?

For the last three years, they had been criticizing his beans. Well, there wasn't going to be any mustard on them this time either. Next year, he would put his foot down and refuse to do the beans. Humans obviously had a strange palate that he could not effectively comprehend or please.

"I shall see what I can do," he said vaguely and watched in disgust as the shopkeeper packed the obscenely large turkey.

"Isn't it gorgeous?" Zoya said dreamily.

"That," Spock answered, maintaining his poker face with great difficulty. "Is a matter of perspective."

XXXXX

"Spock, the lentils are delicious," Tabitha complimented him. "I never knew lentils, of all things, could taste so good."

"Thank you," Spock said and continued to sip his wine. True to his word, Captain Pike had made him try a number of different wines, including the cannabis wine, before he decided his preferred ones. The one in his glass was a Barefoot Pink Moscato. He had been surprised at the complex flavor of the wine. It had reminded him of clementines and jasmines. Apparently, it went well with meat as well, which is why the captain had served it along with the meal.

"The lentils are great but the beans are again bland," Zoya complained, piling bottled mustard over her beans.

Hamid looked on with revulsion. Like Spock, he didn't get this love for mustard either.

"Erm… Zoya, that is mustard sauce, the stuff you put on hot dogs," he said. "Maybe use some paprika to flavor the beans but that stuff is just… eew!"

Everyone else wisely stayed out of this discussion. Also, it was getting too old. They did this every damn year.

"How is your new class?" Tabitha asked Spock, in a bid to change the topic. "I hope they aren't trouble makers as well."

"They are not," Spock answered. "However, I have started teaching them only recently. I do not have sufficient information to accurately judge their behavioral tendencies."

"Are you enjoying teaching them?"

"Vulcans do not 'enjoy,' but I cannot deny they exhibit potential."

Captain Pike watched this exchange intently. He had been in awe of Spock since the beginning of the Fardour mission. Granted, he had had his misgivings during the mission because of the terrible events that took place in those ten short weeks. But then, they had come back to Earth and he had seen Spock grow and blossom… and heal.

He had been awarded the Captain George Kirk Medal for his bravery and selfless service. A few months later, he had been awarded the Madame Marie Curie Prize for saving an entire planet from certain destruction- one of the highest honors the United Earth government could confer on him. Finally, the federation had awarded him the Sulqua Medal for Loyalty and Courage, an honor reserved only for the very highly deserving.

Sometimes, he saw through the pain and hurt Spock still carried inside him. But mostly, he saw hope and promise. Spock was going places.

As was the loud-mouthed cadet he had recruited last year. James T. Kirk. Rule breaker extraordinaire. Charming when he wanted to be. Arrogant. Sometimes disrespectful. But mostly, a genius who would have been wasted on the Kirk farmhouse in Riverside, Iowa.

He was as different as could be from Spock. Where the Vulcan valued rules and regulations, Kirk believed they were solely made to be broken. While Spock's brilliance was precise, mathematical, and methodical, Kirk's was cunning, creative, and completely unorthodox. Where there were things Spock would never do for the sake of his principles, Kirk would first find out the stakes and then find a way around the moral roadblocks.

They would be either a legendary command team or a completely disastrous one. He smiled at that thought. In all likelihood, they would probably never even serve on the same ship. Spock would eventually choose a science or a rescue service vessel. He had made that very clear to everyone. He had no desire to rise up the ranks of the military arm of the fleet. And any promotions he would accept would be purely administrative, based on his years of service.

Kirk, on the other hand, would hopefully change the future of the fleet. He would prove to be his father's son. He would take risks. He would show his middle finger to the admiralty if he didn't agree with them. And he would not be controlled by the PR policies of the higher-ups.

He would do exactly what would be needed. Nothing less. And hopefully, nothing more.

XXXXX

Aparna Puri had already had two helpings of the bland green beans and the thick lentils. Each time, she had complimented Professor Spock on his culinary skills. And he had thanked her politely but nothing more.

For the last three years, he had been tutoring her in math and science. Now, in tenth grade, she was much better at these subjects than she had been as a 12-year-old. Trigonometry, which had once given her nightmares, was now her best friend.

She fondly remembered her first lesson with him.

He had been blunt and rude and… absolutely wonderful. She had immediately developed a gigantic crush on him.

Of course, she had cried when he clearly told her dad that she had "no aptitude for the pursuit of objective disciplines focused on logical reasoning and problem solving." She even remembered his hurtful words verbatim.

But her dad had requested him to give her another chance.

The next lesson had been slightly better. He had tried to be more polite and she had tried harder to keep her terror in check. That afternoon, for the first time in her life, she had found numbers and those meaningless greek symbols somewhat conquerable.

"The variables mean whatever the problem at hand demands them to mean," he had said to her at the end of their lesson. "To be scared of hidden facts is illogical. They may be hidden but they exist. That is why they are mathematical facts- objective, verifiable, simple truths. Therefore, they can be found."

And from that moment onwards, she had lost her fear of math. Her father had asked Professor Spock to tutor her so that she'd do well enough in her college entrance exams to get into a good pre-med program. But now, after three years of studying under the enigmatic, wonderful Vulcan teacher, she wanted to follow in his footsteps.

She would become a scientist. And she was going to study physics at college.

Maybe then, Spock would like her too.

He was a lot older than her. She knew he had no idea of her secret crush. But he was so cute. And he was so much nicer than the boys at her high school.

"Cranberry Sauce, Aparna?" her father's voice interrupted her thoughts. "That's the last few spoons. I thought you'd want some."

"Did Professor Spock have some?" she asked without thinking.

Dr. Puri looked at his daughter for a long moment with a knowing look in his eyes.

"No," he answered. "He's married, by the way."

A jolt of electricity went through her at that.

"He is?" she murmured, dazed and upset.

"Yes, eat your potatoes," her father said and smiled at her.

"I'll have some cranberry sauce," she said, her voice wobbly.

The doctor passed her the dish.

Poor Aparna faced her first heartbreak over a plate of cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes. Well, if she couldn't have Spock, she could at least have the comfort food. She would have to find someone in her class for the junior prom. Her intended date was unavailable!

Permanently.

XXXXX

"This is the strangest Thanksgiving ever," he drawled. Drunk out of his mind, this was almost a holiday ritual now.

"You said that about Halloween too," Jim Kirk said to his friend, Dr. Leonard McCoy, also known as Bones, a nickname he hated but couldn't get rid of.

"Well, it was the first time I didn't go trick-or-treatin' with my Jo," He answered. "I wonder where Joss took her. Maybe to some uppity neighborhood with lawyer kids all running around dressed like their frickin' dads."

"Erm, why would be kids be dressed like their dads?"

" 'Cause what's scarier than a couple o' little lawyers running around the street askin' for candy?"

"I dunno, Bones. Grown-up lawyers asking for your money?"

The older man laughed at that.

"You, Jimothy, gotta be a stand-up comic someplace."

"Comedian, you mean! And don't call me Jimothy."

"Same difference. Damn! This is good stuff," he said gesturing to the electric blue liquid in his glass. "What's it, again?"

"Ferengi port," Jim answered. "Contraband."

"I can't taste the disgusting replicated turkey anymore, at least. Thanks, kid!"

"Yes, sir."

"You got class in the morning?"

"Yeah, with Ginsberg."

"What he teach?"

"It's a she. Teaches Federation History."

"Boring stuff. I got my first in-clinic class tomorrow. My advisor's a guy called Puri.

"Ooooo! You finally get to so see alien junk. That's worth another shot and two." With that, Jim poured his friend another drink.

"I guess. Alien junk. Junk. Is that all you think about?"

"Pretty much! What's life without junk?"

"A junkyard?"

Again, the two men burst into laughter.

And this continued the entire evening. Needless to say, the next morning brought giant hangovers for the two friends. But at least, they didn't remember the taste of their cardboard turkey dinner!

XXXXX

It was late when they returned home.

"That was a lot of fun," Hamid said, kicking off his shoes. Spock, as always, sat down at the edge of the bed and meticulously removed each shoe by hand.

"And I liked the beans," he added. "Don't let Zoya get to you. She was just kidding."

"I am aware of Lt. Cmdr. Khan's odd sense of humor," Spock answered, a hint of amusement in his own voice. "However, I do not believe she has the authority to judge my culinary skills when her own are so severely lacking. The mushroom stew was overcooked and the applesauce was unnecessarily tart."

Hamid didn't say anything for a minute and then he started laughing.

"I hope you didn't tell her this," he chuckled.

"I did not say it to her in these precise terms," Spock said. "However, I let her know that her skills are best applied to a communications console as opposed to a cooking range."

"How did she not kill you for that?" the doctor asked with mock awe.

"She called me sexist. I countered her with the definition of sexism. Prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination, typically against women, on the basis of sex. According to this explanation, to make a positive assumption about her culinary prowess would be sexist. Therefore, my honest judgment of her skills or their lack thereof, was entirely non-sexist."

"And then?"

"She, I believe, 'stomped away in anger.'"

"I am impressed, Spock," Hamid said. "Didn't know you had it in you to piss off a comm. Officer."

"I did not know I had it in myself either," Spock said and went inside the bathroom while the doctor gaped at him, trying to work out if Spock had just made a joke or if he had been serious.