1100.
Nyota groaned as she rolled over in her bunk, dehydrated and head pounding. Gaila was still out cold. She slowly sat up and wandered over to her dresser and caught sight of her ashen face, last night's makeup still on but looking nowhere near as flawless as it had the night before. Traces of her once bold and sharp cat eye deposited itself in the creases of her eyelids and under her eyes. Raccoon eyes. Always a good look, Nyota, she jested at herself. From her dresser, she picked up her toiletries and her robe from the chair in front of it, wrapping herself in it, then grabbed a towel from a lower shelf before going out into and down the long hallway to the shared bathroom facilities for her floor. Once there, she showered quickly and brushed her teeth then returned to her dorm. Gaila was still asleep.
Nyota planted herself in front of the closet. Since it was a Saturday, there was no need to don her uncomfortable red cadet uniform. She was glad. Boy did she have plans today. She smiled to herself. She picked out a cream thick-strapped tank top and layered a high-waisted burgundy skater skirt paired with a thin black cardigan and black wedges. She then blow-dried and straightened her hair, leaving it down, and redrew her signature cat eye. By 1230 hours, she was ready to go.
XXXX
Spock had spent much of his morning in meditation aside from the time he spent in the earlier morning on the comm with his mother and father, and he was now sitting in his office grading all of the work that he put off the night before. Despite his efforts, Spock still found himself extraordinarily distracted. Last night, for the first time in years, he had had a dream. It wasn't much of one. There was no interaction. In fact, his dream seemed only to be a quick succession of images in his mind flashing before him. The images shifted constantly between a number of thing, but he did remember one thing in particular: there had been a recurring image. Bright, impossibly blue eyes boring into him, seeming to get their fill of his very katra. From the many images he managed to sort through during his meditation earlier that morning, he also noticed the frequent appearance of the harsh, but endlessly beautiful Vulcan desert-scape early in the evening and late at night, the starry skies, the lonely presence of T'Khut, waking something primal in him. The Vulcan was puzzled as to how these recurring images were related in the slightest. Even more so to his reaction to them. His meditation left him no more knowledgeable about what he had just experienced than when he woke confused.
And now he was spacing out instead of doing his work. An efficient use of his time. Really.
Alone in his office, Spock heaved a sigh of irritation at himself and continued his work. Oddly enough, this was when his door decided to chime. While he was technically open for office hours at this time, he rarely received visitors on Saturday afternoons. Yet that door did chime. "Enter," he called. Much to his surprise, Cadet Uhura stood in the doorway, out of uniform, padd in hand. "Good afternoon, Cadet."
"Afternoon, Commander," she said with a calm smile, "any time for another study session?"
"I do have the time," he said, pushing his own padd aside. Uhura took her seat across from him without further ado and pulled up her file. They had reviewed the teachings that they had translated last night before they spent another hour so hacking at another large chunk of teachings. Spock's padd flashed beside him with a message and he scanned over it quickly. Spock had put in a request with the Museum of Klingon History and Culture several months ago and now the transport of a variety of both historical and theatrical writings from Kronos was finally complete and his order was now waiting in the main library at the academy. "I must take leave for the next several minutes to collect next week's lesson materials from the library. You are welcome to stay and wait for my return or you may take leave as well as we have already translated a great deal so far."
"I'll think I'll stay, sir, if it doesn't make any difference to you."
"Very well. I will return shortly." Spock got up and left the office rather quickly, leaving Uhura to her thoughts. She shifted around in her seat restlessly for a minute or two before she thought of something to do about the rest of her day. She picked up her padd from her desk, exited the file, and opened her thread with Gaila in the messaging application.
N_UHURA: Gailaaaa
She was excited and she needed her friend's help. After about a minute, her padd chirped.
G_MRO: What?
She sat for a second, debating whether or not her little plan was worth telling Gaila about. Deciding that it was, she started typing once more.
N_UHURA: I have this cute little thing I wanna do regarding Commander Hot Stuff ;).
She sent the message with a tiny smirk on her face.
G_MRO: Oooh, really? 0.0 What is it?!
N_UHURA: I'm gonna need a little bit of help from you to get it started, but here's what I just thought of: you have a date tonight… something that would interest Spock… idk something nice. But alas, your date falls through and now you have two tickets and you're too bummed to go and take someone else. Give them to me and I can take Spock.
She sent the message then realized she forgot something kinda important to Gaila,
N_UHURA: I need you to buy those tickets… I can't do that right now cuz I'm in his office and he'll be back any minute. I'll pay you back in the morning. :)
Five whole minutes passed by and no response from Gaila. Uhura was more than nervous and irritated at her friend.
N_UHURA: Helloooooo?! :/
She received an instant reply,
G_MRO: Can a chick take a minute to go to the bathroom? Damn. A second later, another message popped up, I guess I can help you out… I'd have to search around a little bit for something.
N_UHURA: Ok, thanks! love you! A few minutes later Gaila replied with her offer,
G_MRO: I know ;) 3 Get ready to get dolled up, Ny! You two are going to see Giselle, the ballet! These last minute tickets are costing me a pretty credit. Be warned, but I figured go big or go home since you're going after a hard ass.
N_UHURA: Omfg thank youuuuu 3 ! Message me again in like a half hr. Play the part ;) You know what to do.
And literally, JUST as she hit send and closed the application, Spock walked back in carrying a box that was easily half his height as if it weighed nothing. Of course Uhura noticed. She held back a shiver of anticipation. A fancy date with Commander Hot Stuff was in the cards. It was hard to hide the fact that she was over the moon in happiness. Spock set the box on a table in the corner by his window, the box making a soft thud, before he reclaimed his seat. "Hello again, Commander," she smiled her most charming smile.
"I apologize, acquiring the package took longer than I estimated. Uhura waved her hand at him dismissively,
"It's really no problem, sir," she said. It really isn't, tee hee, you'll see, she thought wickedly. She reopened the file with Surak's teachings, "back to where we left off?"Spock nodded once in response,
"Affirmative," came his reply. They worked for another 20 minutes or so before Uhura's padd pinged. Spock glanced at the text banner at the top of the screen and saw a message.
G_MRO: Nyotaaaa :'( Emergency!,
Which garnered an eyebrow flick and a slight guilt on Spock's part for reading what appeared to be a personal message. He quickly quashed the guilt realizing that it was illogical given that it had appeared at the top of the screen and he had know way of knowing it would appear. "Cadet, I believe that you have an urgent message," he said, pushing the padd in her direction across his desk. Uhura took it trying her best to feign confusion. What she really wanted to do was squeal like the teenaged girl she was not that many years ago.
"Oh?" and she almost let a wicked grin escape her control. This is too good, she thought to herself. She moved to type a reply and Spock took this as his cue to pick up his own padd and resume the grading that he was doing before she had ever arrived. Gaila sent another message not long after,
G_MRO: I had a date to the ballet tonight and it fell through :'( What EVER will I do? before another message popped up, Do you want the tickets? ;)
N_UHURA: Hell yeah, I do! XD
It became harder and harder to hide her inner glee. Somehow, thankfully, she managed.
G_MRO: Yay, show starts at 1900. This is a ballet, dress to impress. Have fun! ;) I expect to hear allll about it!
Uhura bit the inside of her cheek to keep the grin that threatened to split her face at bay. She sent an animated heart as a response then closed the messaging application.
Alright, Nyota, giving herself a mental pep talk, Gaila's done all of her part. Now it's your turn. You got this! She cleared her throat, addressing Spock, "Well then, that was interesting!" Spock raised an eyebrow.
"To what are you referring?"
"My friend. She had plans for tonight that fell through. She can still go, but she's not in the mood anymore. I guess I now have two tickets to Giselle."
"Giselle? I do not know what that is," Spock replied.
"It's a Terran ballet. It was first performed in the 1800s, I believe." Spock's eyebrow lifted minisculely.
"Most interesting. You are fortunate to have the opportunity to witness this aspect of Terran culture, a work of ballet theatre that is over 400 years old ," Spock's thoughts drifted to his mother. She had told him that she had practiced ballet for a number of years when she was younger, before she ever met Sarek. She had broken her ankle somehow and never picked it back up as she had been in college before she became a teacher and decided to leave ballet behind.
He had never seen her dance back on Vulcan, but she did have an old, broken in pair of pointe shoes hanging by their ribbons in her shared bedroom with Sarek back home. They had been the last pair she ever danced in.
"Hey," Uhura started, "I have a second ticket… I don't know anyone that I can think of that would be interested in watching a ballet. Would you like to come with me tonight?" She didn't receive an immediate reply from Spock. He wasn't sure. She pressed a little more, "Consider it a lesson on Terran culture… in exchange for what we have been doing here."
"Very well, I will accompany you," Spock didn't want to pass up the chance to see what had been such an important part of his mother's life, even if she wasn't the one dancing for him. Spock reminded himself to ask his mother about this the next time he went back to Vulcan. "What time shall I meet you?"Nyota couldn't believe this was happening. She was going to a ballet with Commander Hot Stuff!
"The show starts at 1900. It's best if we arrive 45 minutes before to get seated and all. Also, you will want to dress up. Suit and tie, if you have them, though I think Vulcan robes will be fine if you don't."Spock nodded slightly. "We can meet at the Fork (s the common name of the section of pavement between student and staff on-campus housing) at 1800. Does that sound ok to you?"
"Indeed. I shall provide transportation to and from the event," Spock confirmed. Uhura clasped her hands in front of her in delight.
"Sounds like a plan, Commander. I appreciate your willingness to accompany me."
"It is only logical, Cadet," Spock reasoned, but remembering to respect human custom, he continued, "I thank you for the invitation and opportunity to learn more about humans and culture."
At that, Uhura smiled as she stood from her seat. "Well, it's just after 1400. I guess I should go now to find something to wear so we don't run late! I'll see you at 1800 sharp, Commander."
"Until then, Cadet," Spock replied in closing. Uhura left his office, padd in hand.
N_Uhura: Gailaaaaaa! WE'RE GONNA GO...
G_MRO: SHOPPING! ^-^
She practically bolted back to the dorms to catch Gaila the Fork, of course the ivy-skinned beauty had the foresight to have both of their purses in hand as she caught up with her friend and took her flitter to the other side of San Francisco, Market Street and Union Square, the most commercial district for centuries. They had some serious shopping to do and what felt like no time. Hair went up and credit chips were out. It was go time.
XXXX
Jim lay star-fished on his stomach on his bunk. Well,, as star-fished as a guy his height could manage on an already narrow Starfleet bunk, which meant hands, legs, arms, and feet dangling carelessly off each quadrant. Facing his head to the left, he peered out of the nearly floor-length window. Perks of having a roommate with a fear of heights (their shared quarters was several stories up): he got the bunk closest to the window, and he didn't mind in the slightest. When he noted for the umpteenth time that nothing in the campus scenery had changed, he started picking out and counting spots on the window itself.
Yes, Jim Kirk was bored.
Ever since Bones started dating Christine, which was pretty recently, he had been seeing a lot less of him. Normally, it was Jim spending the late hours of the weekends (and sometimes week nights) with a beautiful woman, man, or other, and Bones was home playing video games or reading med journals if he and Jim weren't hanging out together. The tables had been turned and Jim hadn't the slightest idea what to do with himself.
"Uuuuggggh. Nothing to do around this place," he declared to the empty room, mostly his pillow. It was 1400 and he had done nothing but laze around since he woke up. He rolled over onto his back and sighed. Groaning a bit, body stiff from lack of movement, he sat up and swung his legs to the side of the bed facing the window. It was a nice day. Maybe he'd go for a run and maybe the gym?
He padded down the hall to the common bathroom to wash any traces of sleep still on his face even this late in the day before returning to his quarters to throw on a black tank top, blue running shorts, and some running shoes. He then packed a small gym bag with a towel, toiletries, grips, and a change of clothes before heading down and out of the building.
Before he embarked on his run, he stopped by the gym to drop off the bag in a locker. Stepping back out into the early September sunshine, he quickly, but carefully stretched his legs and arms. Jim breathed in slowly, deeply through his nose, revelling in the smell of sun-warmed earth, grass, and trees on the outskirts of the campus. It reminded him of home back in Iowa. The distinct smell of dirt that didn't smell bad, just like dirt, the grass's comparatively sharper scent wafting up more subtly as if it had been thin vines climbing and wrapping itself delicately around the earthy aroma.
While most of the people from back home in Iowa brought little Jimmy pain, the nature that surrounded him and those same people brought him some semblance of solace in the clusterfuc that was his childhood and adolescence. When his mom was on-planet (which was rare), Frank was tolerable, but when she'd leave, he's go right back to being his drunk and abusive self. When it became too much to be in the house with Frank, Jimmy and his older brother Sam would run around outside in the vast stretches of land that surrounded his country home. They'd run until the grass around them got a little less tame and their house was but a small detail in the distant background. Even in the 24th century, much of the large, flat regions of the United States known as the Great Plains had remained relatively undeveloped, save for the parts that turned into the areas bordering the Great Lakes. He and sam would then lay down in the grass, talk about everything and nothing, surrounded by that earthy concoction of aromas.
Eventually, life at home only got worse and worse. The boys got older and Frank only went downhill. Mom was away for longer periods, having accepted deep space missions. Then, when he was 12, Sam ran away. He never heard from him again, not even 7 years later. Despite that, he'd still frequently visit his and Sam's spot. Sometimes, he'd imagine what Sam looked like as he got older with Jim and pretend that he was laying there next to him, but choosing not to talk in favor of looking up to the blue sky (and sometimes white-speckled night sky as they star gazed from their spot just as often), silently hoping that there was a chance that their mom was looking back in their direction from on her ship at a distance that young Jimmy could only imagine.
Jim exhaled slowly as his feet slowed their pace and brought him back to the gym's entrance. He walked in and glanced at the chronometer. 1520 hours. He'd ran over an hour. He hardly noticed, he wasn't even all that tired. Perhaps the one thing that could thank his mom's absence for was the fact that Frank hated being the main parent so much that he forced the boys to take up virtually any activity that would keep them out of his hair so he could spend his days drunk at the bar or drunk on the couch. Didn't matter where he was as long as he was drunk. Mom paid for it all. Sam was big into swimming, so he spent a lot of his time with his swim team. Jim took up gymnastics, partly because he thought it looked really cool, but mostly because it rhymed with his name. Jimmy liked to refer to himself in his head as "the Jim-nist."
The Academy gym was nothing if not like the rest of the campus, state of the art and well-maintained. There was something for everyone. Off in a separate wing of the building was an indoor Olympic pool as well as another smaller pool — length-wise at least— for diving, and a generously-sized hot tub in the set in between the two. The locker and shower rooms separated this wing from the main. The main wing housed just about everything else and had a pretty open floor plan. One quadrant of the large, high-ceilinged room was designated for the various exercise machines, another for weight training and boxing. Just under half the room was designated for gymnastic activities, much to Jim's delight. In the middle was a full 40x40 foot spring floor. Part of the 82 foot vaulting runway ran parallel to the side of the floor closest to the wall. Off the furthest end of the floor were the bars various high and uneven bars and then more of those same bars with pits as well as parallel bars. On the end closest to the entrance were high beams, pommel horses and still rings. This was the Jim-nist's playground. Jim jogged to the locker room to get his grips, chalked his hands upon his return, and then kipped on the still rings into basic support before slowly lifting his straight legs in front of him to the 90 degree L-sit.
"Yep, it's definitely going to be an arm day," Jim snickered to himself in response to his body quivering slightly, not quite used to being on the rings anymore. It had been a short while, but Jim had been a level 10, there wasn't much he couldn't handle.
XXXX
1500 hours.
Spock had returned to his quarters from his office a short while ago having finished his grading for the weekend. He walked over to his closet, pondering what to wear. As far as civvies went, he didn't have very much. Most of his closet was dominated by several copies of the various uniforms he has worn or still wears: his old cadet reds from a several years ago when he was a student at the academy, his science his science blues from the mission he served under Pike, dress uniforms, and his Instructors' blacks, the uniform he now wears as a professor until the USS Enterprise completes her construction in just over 2 years time and he once again dons his blues and resumes his service under Captain Pike. On the floor sat a trunk that contained a few sets of both casual and formal Vulcan robes, tunics, slacks, and the one thing he needed for tonight: a tuxedo. His mother had insisted on having a tux made for him when he once again left for earth after visiting his home and family back on Vulcan. She had thought it important for him to "dress the part," his human half, at least once, or a least have the attire at his disposal if he chose not to acknowledge that heritage otherwise. On a day like this, he thanked his mother mentally as he was saved from the trouble of having to search for the appropriate attire of a formal event day of. Vulcans did not like last minute shopping. To do anything so last minute was considered illogical. You wouldn't catch any Vulcan doing last minute holiday shopping… assuming they even had any holidays to shop for, that is.
Spock donned the tuxedo in all its three-pieced glory. The tux still felt as if it fit him well. Spock briefly stroked the satin tie hanging off his neck before stopping the illogical hand movement and tightening it. He turned around to face the mirror. The tux fit Spock's slim and tall figure well, all black, just like his command uniform, save for the steel grey tie. There was only one problem.
The ever prim and proper Vulcan stood in a badly wrinkled tuxedo. Unacceptable.
Sighing, he undid his tie, unbuttoned and removed his jacket and shirt, and divested himself of his pants setting them all carefully on his bunk as he did so, leaving him in his tight-fitting undershirt and boxer briefs He was mentally cursing earth tailors and textile makers for having not yet followed Vulcan technology in creating wrinkle-proof clothing. Spock had never used an iron and ironing board before in his life. This was gonna be interesting…
After 20 minutes, he finally seemed to smoothe out all the wrinkles, every last one. He once again donned the tux and stepped in front of the mirror. It took him a while to pinpoint the problem, but there it was:
By ironing every wrinkle out, he got rid of the crease running down his pant legs. Sufficiently irritated with Terran clothing, he once again removed his shoes, socks, and pants and took out the iron and ironing board to re-crease the pant legs. Finally satisfied with the result, Spock removed the entire ensemble and placed them on hangers until he would once again wear the suit later.
It was just after 1530. He had two and a half hours to kill so he decided to go to the gym. He dressed himself in a more breathable version of his normal tight undershirts, compression pants, and running shoes and packed his towel, water, and toiletries in a bag and headed down to the gym.
When he arrived, he was greeted with a sight that literally took his breath away. 9 feet above the ground hung a human male from two rings facing away from with his arms straight out to his sides, forming a straight line with his shoulders. His biceps and triceps appeared to be fully engaged as well as the back muscles that peaked out from the back of his tight, black tank top. His toned legs that sprouted from admittedly short and loose fitting shorts were straight below him, bound together by invisible forces. Head head straight with the gym lights forming a halo through his blonde hair and a sleek silhouette, this man was the picture of strength and grace.
The sight instantly reminded Spock of images of centuries old cathedrals throughout Earth that he had seen, lone crosses with a man called Jesus Christ by the humans nailed. Here, there was no wooden cross, no nails, no thorns. This man was not Jesus Christ, but he appeared holy to Spock all the same.
The man had not seemed to notice him and without prompting, he slowly, carefully brought his arms together, pushing his lower body into the air behind him, sending his head and torso forward. He had moved himself into a picture perfect planche, his chest being the center of balance over his hands as he seemed to lay flat on his stomach on an invisible table. Spock was transfixed. He was tempted to say something, but he refrained at the high possibility of this beautiful human becoming startled, falling, and injuring himself.
Having held the planche for several moments, he slowly shifted again, bringing his head and shoulders lower and closer to the center of balance while doing the same with his legs, pushing the bottom half of his torso up, seemingly folding himself in half. With his feet level with the hands below him, arms now fully extended above (or below since he was now upside down) his head, he moved his legs up and out, straight out to his sides, briefly stopping at the halfway point upwards and maintaining an effortless 180 degree middle split before they continued their journey, ending in the man holding a handstand. Spock recognized the man instantly.
Without warning, the man started to shift his grip very slightly, let his legs fall in the manner they came and started a fast swing once he was no longer inverted before he flung himself from the rings, completing a front tuck before sticking his landing landing feet together on the mat below him, arms at his side before gracefully holding them in a Y-shape above his head. Spock took this opportunity to speak now that danger of the man hurting himself had reduced greatly.
"Cadet Kirk, what is that apparatus that you were just utilizing called?" Spock asked. Kirk had the living wits scared out of him. He whipped himself around in a blur.
"Jesus!" then he realized who had addressed him, "Oh, hey, Commander. You kinda startled me," he said with a sheepish grin, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck.
"My apologies," Spock replied, bowing his head briefly, "that was not my intention."
"No worries… Anyways, I was just using the still rings."
"Where did you learn such skills?"
"I did gymnastics for a really long time, reached level 10 and all," the fair-haired cadet said proudly. Not many people knew this about him. He remembers how hard he had worked as a teen to hold the Iron Cross without looking like he was gonna die. Of course, he was 19 now, he was naturally stronger than his 15 year old self. Spock raised an impressed eyebrow. "Nice catching you here!"
Spock nodded in agreement, "It is agreeable to find you here as well, Cadet," he replied pleasantly. Despite the surprise of running into one of his students so closely in their off time, Spock didn't feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. In fact, he felt more welcome by him than most other Terrans and others he encountered regularly. Not only was this cadet friendly, but he was intelligent… and fit. Something stirred in him. He found himself wanting his company. Something he had never desired from any other before. Even the admittedly beautiful Uhura had to talk him into spending any time with her after having known him longer than most of his current students. He found her enthusiasm towards inviting him to things, disturbing his routine, slightly irksome, but she had at least always provided logical explanations as to why he should come with her, so he did. He would at least give her that. "Would you mind instructing me in this… gymnastics?" he said with a pause as he recalled the name of the activity. Kirk's eyes widened a fraction at his request.
"Sure! Uhhh, well I've never really been an instructor for this before, just the competitor… Are you okay with being my guinea pig?" he asked Spock with a laugh. Spock furrowed his brow.
"A… guinea pig? I do not believe Vulcans resemble the terran cavia porcellus in the slightest, Cadet. I was not aware we appeared so to humans," Spock replied in confusion, "Fascinating."
"No, no, no, Commander," he was laughing heartily now, a wide grin splitting his face, blue eyes positively twinkling. Spock found the sight and sound incredibly pleasing. He wished to witness it more often. "By guinea pig, I mean like a test subject. I'll try my best to teach you if you are okay with some trial and error." Spock took a moment to consider any risk.
"I believe you are capable of aiding me without any risk too great for either you or myself," Spock reasoned. At this, Kirk clapped his hands together in an attempt to rid himself of the leftover chalk on his hands before removing his grips entirely and setting them on the floor.
"First things first," Kirk started, "Since I am now your instructor, call me Jim, Commander," he said, beaming.
"Jim," Spock said, almost reverently. He immediately berated himself mentally for that. "In that case, Jim, you may refer to meas Spock." Jim's eyes widened again.
"Commander, I wouldn't want to disregard your rank like that…" Spock held up a hand to pause Jim's reply.
"I assure you that it is of no consequence. It is the weekend and I am off duty, you may call me Spock," Spock said with a hint of finality. Maybe he just wanted this man to use his name… Was that so bad? Well, then again, he never allowed allowed anyone here at Starfleet to address him by his given name previously. Fascinating. "You may resume referring to me as commander during the time when I am on duty."
"Oh, wow, okay," Jim said in surprise. This was going to take some getting used to. Jim may have had some issues in the past following rules before because of who he was as a person, but he had never really referred to any superior officer as anything but their rank (except Pike. After all, he was Jim's godfather). "Let's get started then, shall we, Spock?" Spock shivered slightly at hearing his name spoken by warm tenor voice. Moving to the Floor, Jim indicated that Spock should follow, and he did after he set down his own gym bag. "Ok, I'm going to show you the God almighty of gymnastics: the parent of all we gymnasts hold true," Jim said with mock ceremony. Spock found it positively amusing. He couldn't remember the last time he felt the urge to grin. "The handstand. If you can learn the handstand, you can learn anything as far as balance and strength skills go. Tumblings a whole different animal that we will cover later." Without further ado, Jim bent over, planted his hands on the ground, and pressed into a perfect handstand. He held it for several moments before returning to his feet.
Spock attempted to do the same, but found that he needed to kick himself up to get his legs even above his hips. I should have given this handstand more thought, he thought to himself. He felt his legs falling toward the ground as quickly as they had come off it. Much to his surprise, as strong pair of hands caught his ankles and hoisted his feet up, straightening his body for him.
"That's it, there ya go, point your feet," Jim said encouragingly, before he manually manipulated Spock's feet to point them. As far as feet go, they are almost as sensitive as Vulcan hands, and those were sensitive, but not in the painful way… Spock toppled over. He would have landed on his back had Kirk not been quick and braced Spock's shoulders with one arm and the backs of Spock's thighs with another. Spock felt the heat in his cheeks spreading to his ears and neck. He wasn't sure if it was from the fact that he was just upside down of because he was embarrassed by his own uncharacteristic clumsiness. Probably both, not that Spock would ever admit to the latter cause. "Woah, there, Spock!" Jim said with a surprised chuckle, "You okay?"
Spock brought himself to full height, on his feet, "I am unharmed physically." He wasn't so sure about his ego. Another thing that he would never admit that he had. Ego was a human thing, he was Vulcan, dammit. Apparently,Vulcans only had their their enviable grace and balance while upright. But then again, why would any being logically need the advantage for standing or walking on their hands, completely inverted for extended periods of time. The human advantage for being able to learn such skills was… illogical. At least, that's what Spock told himself. By 1700, Jim had helped Spock not only maneuver himself more smoothly into a handstand, but hold one for at least a few moments. It was good progress. Jim was proud of himself for not managing to cause the Vulcan to hurt himself. Spock looked to the chronometer, taking note of the time. Had it really been that long? He felt like he just got there. "I regret that I must take leave now. I thank you for your instruction."
Much to Spock's surprise, Jim replied not only with the response that was customary on Vulcan, but in Vulcan, "Sarlah nash-veh dvin-tor." [I come to serve].
Spock responded in kind, even if it was a bit redundant considering the fact that he had just thanked him, "Vu dvin dor nash-veh," [Your service honors me]. At that, they gathered their things, went to the locker room, showered themselves off, then walked in each other's company until the reached the Fork.
"You did very well today, Spock," Jim said warmly.
"I had a fine instructor," Spock replied, his own eyes twinkling for a change. "Perhaps we can arrange another lesson?"
Jim smiled widely at that, "I'd be happy to, Spock. How does tomorrow at say… 1600 hours sound?"
"I am agreeable to that. Until then, goodnight Jim," Spock said whilst bowing his head. He then turned and made his way into the staff housing, Jim watching his retreat, and up to his quarters to prepare himself for the night out. He found himself wishing for Jim to accompany him instead of Uhura.
