The party was over, leaving the crew stumbling back to their building. Sarek had stayed in the living room, choosing to read instead of returning after he nearly drowned. Leonard collapsed on the soft sofa, groaning. He didn't have too many drinks after the incident with the Vulcan, but he was still pretty buzzed. When Spock walked in, looking a little green, Sarek stood. He gestured for them to talk outside, and Spock stiffly followed.

"Son, have you been intoxicated?" Sarek asked immediately, all but glaring at the younger Vulcan as they stood outside the tinted glass doors.

"I have indeed indulged in a small amount of the chocolate that they provided," Spock said, collectively. "However, my judgment has only decreased by a mere 9.47 percent." They glared at each other. Sarek contemplated before replying.

"I had planned to discuss something with you, Spock, but it appears as though it will have to wait." Sarek turned to leave, ignoring Spock's petty attempts to make him stay. He required a serious conversation regarding the matters of Vulcan, not a lame attempt at trying to make his son understand him. Sarek walked back into the building, and into the room that he was to share with the doctor.

He needed to meditate. Sarek sat cross-legged on the bed and assumed his meditative trance.

..

They (the humans, since the hobgoblins were off doing their own mojo) played poker late into the night, until Jim decided to take a shower with all his clothes on. Spock dragged him off to their room after that, leaving the remaining five to their game. Pavel, the poor kid, had gotten into the Reonan's most potent alcoholic drink and was pretty far-gone after a couple sips. He kept betting All In, whether he was playing the game or not.

Leonard (being the most sober) kept winning, of course. He was proud of his ever growing pile of chips, even though he slid some off to Pavel every once in a while so that the kid could keep on playing. They played for a long time, until all of the chips had been used up and piled all over Leonard. He grinned triumphantly despite the fact that most of them would probably forget the game tomorrow morning. It was good times to be had on their "vacation."

When Leonard kept falling asleep and dropping his head on the table, he decided that he should go up to bed. He bid the others goodnight, visited a vomiting Pavel in the bathroom to make sure he was okay, and trudged up the stairs. He almost fell a few times, but he caught himself on the railing. Stumbling into his room, he immediately sat down on his bed. He looked up and inhaled sharply when he saw the hobgoblin sitting on the other bed. Christ, the Vulcan was always scaring him!

Leonard sloppily took off his shirt- despite the meditating hobgoblin awkwardly facing in his direction- and pulled the covers over him. He looked over at Sarek. He wondered if the Vulcans were there because of something bad, or life threatening, and Jim wasn't giving them enough time. No, they just needed transport for "allies." That couldn't be the only reason though, since they could just do something like that over a video call. That how everybody else did it. Maybe Vulcans valued the importance of interacting in person. No, they only valued logic, so why would they go in person if it could be conveniently done on their own planet? Leonard didn't get it. Vulcan logic was weird.

He turned over towards the glass window, and fell promptly into the arms of sleep.

...

The morning sunlight stinging his eyes, Leonard groaned and rubbed his eyes. He then realized that he was sweating, and that he was really, really hot. He took a deep breath, looking around. The Vulcan was gone, but the curtains on his side were closed. Leonard yawned and pulled the blankets off of him. Big mistake.

He was greeted by throbbing morning wood, and he didn't even feel it until he saw it. He started panicking, since that hasn't happened to him in a VERY long time. Leonard swallowed awkwardly, and tried to readjust himself to make things less noticeable. "Dead kittens, bleeding tribbles," he chanted to himself, getting up. "Biting the heads off of babies, falling out into space," and it WASN'T WORKING. WHY WASN'T IT WORKING? He checked if the hallway was clear, and ran into the upstairs bathroom. It was really nice, but he tried not to pay attention to beautiful things.

Getting in the shower and turning the water on really cold, Leonard groaned as the jets hit him. He was really screwed. But why did this happen? And why won't it go away? He tried to think if he dreamt last night. Screwing his eyes shut under the cold water, he concentrated. Someone's hard body on his, rocking the bed- rocking the world basically-, feverish hands, biting curved green ears... Leonard started choking on air. He was almost ripping his hair out as he flailed around in the shower. HE HAD AN EROTIC DREAM ABOUT A HOBGOBLIN? He froze. Not any hobgoblin, but the HOBGOBLIN MASTER! He hit his head against the wall.

Leonard didn't even think about guys that way! Especially not goddamned Vulcans. Maybe he wasn't the most emotional person in relationships (to his ex-wife's dismay), but he wanted to be with somebody that had at least a little bit of emotion! Right when his vacation was going fine, something like that had to happen. Why did God hate him so?

..

Leonard walked down the stairs with his jaw clenched. Glaring at anybody who greeted him, he sat down heavily at the table and grabbed some food. The marble table had already been laid out, with colorful foods set in the middle. Nothing looked familiar, except for a bright orange fruit that reminded Leonard of the nectarines back home. Biting into a vegetable that tasted like a yam, he looked around the table. Jim and Spock chatted quietly about negotiation tactics, Uhura enjoyed a purple soup, and Sarek... Leonard looked down. Before he could stop it, his mind flashed back to his dream. He started coughing on his water, and Sarek left towards the bathroom.

Thank God, he could eat his food in peace. Leonard planned to avoid the hobgoblin for the rest of the trip. Anything to get that goddamn dream out of his mind and into non-existence.