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…
Author's Note:
I want to thank Requisite for his/her insights and suggestions. I fixed the line-break problem in the previous chapter so y'all won't get confuzzled. I thank you guys for all the complements and encouragement! I hope my story continues to bring smiles!
Reviews are welcome and appreciated SO much!
Absolute Pin
Chapter 3
Friday night at ten to seven, I showed up at the teacher's dorms and looked up Professor Spock's room number. He lived on the second floor with the apartment on the end, probably to cut down on the noise level. I had debated whether to bring along a six pack or something, but when I cleaned out the fridge of it's stock, Bones started complaining.
"Where're you makin' off with al' that beer, Jim-boy?" He groused, looking like hell after his first simulator test. His hair stuck up in odd directions and his harsh, southern drawl clued me in to just how well that test went. So I left the beer behind, glad I wouldn't have to live through one of his bad luck binges that was probably impending this evening. I'd probably come home to find him passed out on his desk in a puddle of his own tears. Bones wasn't what you would call a jolly drunk.
About to rap my knuckles on apartment eight, I blink in surprise as it opens a crack to reveal a brown eye peering at me past a security chain. "Uh, hey, bad time?" I manage my best grin filled with Iowa sunshine.
The door closes, I hear the chain being removed, and then it opens wider for me to step through, "Not particularly."
"How did you know I was here, I didn't even knock?"
"I could hear you breathing outside my door." I watch him exit into what must be the kitchen, surprised to see he's not wearing the regulation Starfleet uniform for professors. Instead, he's donned a brown knit sweater with long sleeves and a turtle neck, even if it's about ninety outside.
"Do you require something to drink, Mr. Kirk?"
Huh, back to the old man name then, "Sure, whatever you're having." Turning, I wander past the foyer and scan the living room. It's rather tasteful, decorated with artifacts that could only be from Vulcan, and what looks like an African dance mask on the wall. A low shelf runs the length of one wall, holding a collection of books and trinkets that look about as old as the leather-bound books on my own shelf. Reaching out, I trail a finger along the ridged spines, peeking into a brass urn that has remnants of what looks to be incense at the bottom.
"Please do not touch that." A voice admonishes me from across the room.
"Sorry." Smirking, I stretch my fingers out towards some kind of statue and the warning comes again:
"Or that."
I move on towards a low table positioned between two couches, noticing a book sitting there and reaching to pick it up.
"Or that."
"Can I touch anything here? The carpet?" I splay my hands out helplessly, glaring at the Vulcan over the kitchen countertop.
"Please do not be impertinent." Spock settles two cups and a strangely shaped teapot upon a tray and carts it out to a table erected before a door leading out to a balcony. I notice he's already set up the chess board there and so I take a seat on the black side of the board.
Spock arches a shapely brow at me, "You wish to play without a handicap?"
"You can go first this time, since I won our last match." I thought I was being generous, but Spock must not think so.
"What is this?" I take an experimental sip of the hot beverage, licking my lips.
"Earl grey tea."
We sit down with the 3D chess board and Spock makes his first move. After a little while, I know I'm outmatched against the Vulcan, but I throw out some random moves in attempts to throw him off his game.
Once the tea is gone and the silence is deafening, I can't take it anymore, "So what made you join Starfleet?"
There's that brow again, "What encourages any being to enter Starfleet?"
"A sense of adventure, I guess. Space; the unknown?" I grin cheekily, "A chance to boldly go where no man has gone before. In your case, no Vulcan."
Spock takes my pawn with his rook, "Indeed, that is the reason most choose a career path in Starfleet."
"But you didn't answer my question. Is that why you joined up?" I grimace as he takes another one of my pieces with some cool ease nothing I do can ruffle.
"I joined Starfleet because it interests me."
"The stars and planets?"
He nods, contemplating my latest move of Bc5.
"Your parents must be pretty proud to have their son be the first Vulcan in Starfleet?"
He doesn't speak until he makes his play, "My mother takes pride in whatever I do."
I pause, sensing some unspoken taboo here that he's trying to skirt. "What about your dad?"
He actually hesitates at this, growing still like some deer caught out in the open by an armed hunter. The muscles in his jaw contract and I tap my first two fingers against the wooden table.
"My father is a wise man of high position on Vulcan." Spock relents, frowning when I take one of his pieces left unguarded.
"I know, isn't he an ambassador or something?"
"Yes." Brown eyes won't meet mine, focusing instead upon the nearest level of the chess board.
"Was he hoping you would take his place as ambassador?" I hedge, having a feeling that this topic isn't going to come to fruition.
As I'd suspected, Spock doesn't make any effort to reply to my last question, indicating instead with a tilt of the brow, "You are not focusing on the game, Mr. Kirk. You have sacrificed too many pieces and I estimate that in approximately three moves I will have you checkmated."
"Oh." I stare dumbly at the board, realizing that I'd zoned out at some point and played on autopilot as I tried to draw conclusions to Spock's personal life. "Guess you win then."
"Indeed." Spock pushes back from the table and carries the tea tray back into the kitchen. I hear the faucet running a moment later and I let myself look around the room again. And like before, my gaze falls on the book left out on the coffee table.
"What makes you read about the 'Complexities of the Human Nature'?"
The water stops and the sound of clinking china can be heard, "I am an alien to this planet, no matter my heritage. I have had the opportunity to study human cultural habits but some of your race's attributes still puzzle me."
"Like what?"
"For example, why Terrans find it necessary to kiss with the lips. I am aware humans are most commonly p.s.i. null. But the human mouth contains more bacteria and germs than the cleanest of house hold bathroom appliances."
"Oh, that's easy." I laugh, "We kiss with our lips not only because we don't know of any other way, but because it feels nice." Shrugging, I disobey his previous order and pick up the book to thumb through the pages, scanning the ones he has ear-marked.
"I suppose that is logical, but does it not make a person prone to passing disease?"
"Well, sure…but mono can't kill you if you treat it." Smirking, I take the glass of water he offers me. "Besides, it's usually worth it anyway." Putting the thick, brown leather book aside, I return to the chess table, "I think I'm ready for a rematch."
"You wish to play again?" Spock expresses surprise by raising both brows this time and I grin.
"You bet, it's what I came here for. But this time, I'm white."
"Certainly."
So in this fashion, we continued. I would meet Mr. Spock two or three times a week and we would play chess. Well, more like Spock would teach me some strategies and I would clarify some of his questions about human social, cultural and physical complexities.
I found that when Bones and I started his class on Monday, there was absolutely no favoritism brought on by my slow friendship with the professor. If anything, he practically ignored me. Bones was apprehensive about my ability to get him an easy A, but after a little arm twisting, I got him to lay off on the snide comments. He usually shut up when we had to actually do the Astro-Physics homework, which I'm not going to lie, was absolutely the worst fucking load of homework I'd ever had in my life. Spock has a thing for five-thousand word essays and lab time. It's like boot camp high school style, really. But instead of doing laps and climbing ropes, you get the same adrenaline rush when he calls on you in class with an expectant look. It doesn't help that he has ears like a fucking bat or something and can pick up little side conversations and make you wish you didn't have a mouth to speak with.
One evening, we had finished our customary chess game and Spock had been rather silent through the whole exchange. I had let him have his silence, as he didn't seem to be bothered by it, until the moment he muttered, "Checkmate." I had lasted longer this time and actually gotten a fair amount of his pieces this time. My previous win must have been a fluke or something, he had to have really underestimated me. But now that he knows I'm capable of Alekhine's Gun, I can hardly use it again. They didn't name Spock the Grand Master of the National three-dimensional chess association for nothing! I have yet to make a win on him again, but I often take pleasure in stumping him with my strategies. He has admitted that the way I play is hard to read and predict.
"Well, Spock, how about another round? Or should we retire for tonight?" I take a swig of my coffee, having noticed that Spock had purchased some according to my tastes since our games had become a regular thing.
"I do not wish to play another game tonight, Jim." He turns his cup around and around on its coaster.
"Hey, you've been rather quiet tonight, sullen even. Is something wrong?" Slouching in my seat, I set down my now empty coffee cup.
Spock shifts in what I read to be discomfort, "I received a transmission from my mother this afternoon."
"Oh, hey, that's great!" I beam, "You haven't seen her since, what…New Years?"
He nods once in assent, "Indeed, it will be pleasing to meet with her again."
"Then what seems to be the problem? It's not like your place is a wreck or anything," I look around the spotless living room and kitchen, which is exactly in the same pristine shape as I had seen it my first day here a month ago.
"My father has decided to accompany my mother to Earth this time."
"Oh." The words hang in the air like an oppressive diagnosis and I grimace, "Well, hopefully your mother will act as a buffer zone, right?" I knew Ambassador Sarek and his son didn't really get along so well, since Spock had chosen Starfleet over what Sarek had wished for him. At least, that is what I have gathered over the past few weeks of imposing on the Vulcan.
"Indeed." But he doesn't seem so sure about it.
"If you ever need an escape from them, you know where to find me. I wouldn't want to forget everything I've learned at chess or grow out of practice." I grin at the arched brow directed at me.
"They will only be present for three days as they are passing through to another planet my father has business on. Hardly not enough time for you to fall out of good graces with Caissa."
"With who?"
"The goddess of chess, Jim."
I went to visit my parents from the Embassy myself the day they arrived, following a desire to not want to 'fuck things up', as Jim would certainly say. I wore my uniform with a sliver of illogical pride, knowing my father would find it distasteful, but my mother would be charmed. As, indeed, she was.
Upon opening the door to their room, my mother quietly beamed out at me from the doorway, holding her arms up for me to step into, enfolding me in her gentle embrace.
"Spock, you look so well. I hope you're looking after yourself." She absently dusted off my shoulders, "Oh! Come inside." She led me into their attending room where my father was just rising from meditation.
"Welcome to San Francisco, Father."
"It is good to see you, Spock."
Swallowing, I carefully keep a neutral face as the disappointment settles over my shoulders with a familiar weight as he makes the subtle refusal to acknowledge me as his offspring.
It was a tiring evening, though I enjoyed my mother's gentle rants about the heat ruining her roses and the progression of her garden within the greenhouse at home. I find myself keeping up my guard about my father, only answering direct questions. Before I am aware, three days have passed and I am subdued as I see my parents off. My mother is quite contrite, expressing her wishes to visit again soon and spend more time with me. I assure her she is not neglecting any such duty in seeing me, allowing her to give me one final embrace as my father looks away at the emotional display.
Upon leaving the Embassy, I had barely enough time to retrieve my notes for class before I was due in the auditorium. Truly, I should have meditated, but to be late would be illogical and irresponsible. So I was not ready for the full battery assault by James Kirk when the excited human came jogging after me as the lesson ended.
"Hey, haven't heard from you since that last chess game three days ago, how were the 'rents?" He inquires, his voice light and bright like the weather. It grates upon my defenses and causes me to be short.
"My parents were well, but your concern was hardly necessary Mr. Kirk." I lengthen my strides in hopes he may decide to continue this conversation at a later time.
"…So it's back to 'Mr. Kirk' again, huh?" It is nearly impossible to miss the open disappointment in Jim's voice and I stop abruptly as he expresses his very human need for touch by taking my shoulder in a conspiratorial manner.
Turning, I slip out from under his hand and keep a cautionary distance from him, careful not to project my own feelings onto him as I had accidentally done before.
Blue eyes frown at me, twin pools of confusion, "Did something happen?"
"I would appreciate it if you would make a conscious effort not to invade my personal space, Mr. Kirk."
"Uh, sure, do you want to talk about it?" He offers, changing his textbooks from one arm to the other.
"No." A simple refusal could not possibly deter such a determined individual.
Jim Kirk scampers after me, his regulation shoes clattering on the tile floors loudly as he catches up to me once again, this time grabbing my arm to spin me around.
"Mr. Kirk-" I start in a stern, if a bit loud, voice.
"Fine," he raises his hands in surrender, "you don't have to tell me any details, but promise me something, okay?"
Clenching my jaw, I consider, "What is it you wish me to promise?"
"That you won't cut into any other cadets like you just did me…" His mouth forms a wry smile, "Calm down somewhere…then call me for a game of chess."
I nod, "Fine."
/ Author's Note: The next chapter will hold some secrets revealed and some awesome banter! =]
