How exactly Spock and Jim had ended up in a Galaxy Burgers (214 star systems served!) in New Jersey at ten o'clock at night was one of serendipity's sillier games. They were supposed to meet McCoy and Sulu in New York City about three hours ago after their meeting with command, but a mishap involving a cancelled shuttle, a broken destination sign, and an incomprehensible stop announcer landed them elsewhere. There was one last shuttle running that night, but in the meantime, it was well past dinner and Jim was hungry.

Hence their visit to the only open eating establishment within walking distance of the station. Jim was overjoyed that his first planetside meal in over three months was going to be fast food from his favorite chain, but Spock was considerably less than thrilled.

"There is nothing of significant nutritional value on this menu."

"That's a bit of an exaggeration." Jim pointed at a mouth-watering picture of the burger he planned to order. "Protein, carbohydrates, vitamins and minerals–"

"I will amend my statement. There is nothing with nutritional benefits that outweigh the detriments." Spock folded up the menu with a look of vague disbelief.

"And that is exactly why it tastes so good."

Their waitress appeared before Spock could retort, and Jim made a mental note to add a little extra to her tip for excellent timing. He ordered the Galactic Classic with all the bells and whistles and a side of fries. Spock ordered water.

That first bite was a piece of heaven. As much as he disliked living off of synthesizer food for months, it always made the reunion with real food that much sweeter. He leaned back in the red pleather and chrome booth and chewed slowly, savoring the juiciness of the burger, the soft give of the bread, the tang of onions and pickles. He attacked the fries next, crisp, golden, and perfect.

Then something occurred to him, and he looked up at Spock, who was reading on his PADD. "You should try one." He pointed to the fries. "They're vegetarian."

Spock considered the idea for a moment. "I believe Dr. McCoy would ask if you were attempting to kill me."

"Not a bad way to go." Jim laughed and held out a fry, hoping to give Spock the subconscious impression that this was not optional. "Oh, and by the way, he never hears about this."

Spock raised an eyebrow noncommittally, but Jim's ploy worked, because he took the offered fry. He studied it as though it were a new alien species, then popped the whole thing in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Jim searched his face for any sign of a reaction other than mild curiosity.

"Well?" He crossed his arms when Spock had finished.

"Interesting." Spock took a sip of water. "An astonishingly high sodium content."

"That's it?"

"There is little else to observe."

Jim shook his head. "My poor, poor Vulcan friend. You've been so deprived your whole life that your taste buds don't know how to handle such pure delight. That wasn't literal." He added before Spock could express confusion.

He went back to his meal, but after awhile he noticed in his peripheral vision that Spock was staring at him. No, not at him; at his fries. Spock pretended to continue his reading, but he kept sneaking peeks at Jim's plate, and he hadn't turned the page in several minutes. Jim glanced up and surveyed Spock's face.

"You can have another one, you know."

Spock was visibly startled for half a second before he regained his composure. "I appreciate the offer, captain, but no thank you."

"C'mon, Spock. No one here but me, and I won't tell a soul."

Over the years Jim had learned how to read Spock, and the tension in the Vulcan's shoulders told him there was a colossal mental struggle going on between those pointy ears. Finally Spock started to reach for the plate in a slow, deliberate way, as if he thought displaying reluctance would make the action more logical. A mental cheering squad grew louder and louder in Jim's head, but died down with a disappointed groan when Spock stopped halfway.

"Are you certain?" He looked at Jim. "I do not wish to deprive you of a favorite food."

The sight of Spock enjoying a food with no significant nutritional value would make Jim gladly give up his entire order of fries, the captain's chair, and sex. Well, maybe for a few months. "Take as many as you want." He said, trying not to sound as devious as he felt.

"Perhaps just a few. To fully familiarize myself with the taste." Spock added the last part as an afterthought. He took exactly three and ate them one a time.

There was something absurd and wonderful about watching his first officer eat fries surrounded by pseudo mid-twentieth century décor, trying to act as if he didn't want to shove the whole plate into his mouth. He had the same light of discovery in his eyes that Jim had last seen on Joanna's face when Bones introduced her to ice cream.

"You know," Jim said after he finished his burger, and noticed that Spock was still eyeing up the fries, "I think I'm too full. I can't eat any more."

Spock adopted the innocent I'm-just-a-puzzled-alien expression he used for teasing. "I thought you were hungry enough to consume an entire equine."

"Hyperbole and you know it." Jim faked a frown. "But I can't help feeling guilty. Isn't it illogical to waste food?"

Again Spock's shoulders tensed for a moment or two, but this time, he caved in faster than before. "In a superficial sense, I suppose you are correct." Jim wanted to leap up and do a victory lap around the restaurant when Spock pulled the plate toward him.

Spock finished off the fries with all the delicacy and decorum one would normally apply to a five-course gourmet banquet. How someone could eat a finger food and still manage to look like nobility was beyond Jim.

"Captain?"

"Yes?"

"Is there something you wish to ask me?" Jim abruptly realized that he was staring.

"No, it's nothing." He hesitated. "You're just funny." Also strangely adorable, but Jim had thought that for some time, and he had no intention of saying it out loud.

Spock didn't seem to know how to process his statement, so he went back to his fries, but the faint olive tone to his skin darkened ever so slightly. Soon the last bits of golden paradise were gone, and Spock noted that their shuttle would be arriving in ten minutes.

Jim waved over the waitress from where she had been leaning against the bar, chatting with the restaurant's only other patron. "Sorry about that. Slow night." She said. "Would you gentlemen like anything else?"

Well, since the nice lady asked. Jim peered at the back of his menu. "The milkshakes are good here. Maybe I'll get one for the road."

"I thought you were no longer hungry."

"Oh, you believed that?" Jim grinned at Spock, knowing full well that Spock could tell he was lying earlier.

Spock switched gears. "Dr. McCoy would not approve."

"If you throw me to the wolves like that, I'm telling him you ate an entire side of fries."

"Would he believe you?" Spock was practically smiling, he looked so pleased with himself and his chosen defense. Which Jim had to admit, was a pretty damn good one.

"Tell you what." He began, in his best diplomatic voice. "You should know by now that I'm a good judge of taste. So we share the milkshake, keep quiet about it, and I'll take all the blame if he finds out."

Spock said nothing, but he raised an assenting eyebrow.

Jim turned to their thoroughly amused waitress. "Strawberry milkshake to go, please." He said. "Two straws."

The waitress flashed him a knowing grin and hurried off.

"Captain, why–"

"Human tradition, Spock."

Years later, he would come to think of that night as their first date.


Wow, these just keep getting longer...

Lula1: I'm accusing myself (because of the chapter title)! It would be way too easy to do cutesy alliterative titles for all of these, but that would push the fluff quotient over the recommended safe levels.

Thanks so much for the nice reviews, everyone!