A/N – *Rivers (used in typography) - visually unattractive gaps appearing to run down a paragraph of text, due to an accidental alignment of spaces.
...
Though Jim had really really wanted to take Spock up on his lunch offer, in actuality, he really did have afternoon plans. Since he was Captain now, that meant he had responsibilities and just like anyone with responsibilities, that meant he had to do stuff. In particular, he had to send out forms and requests and fill out the paperwork for his upcoming crew. Most would be staying, but he could make formal requests for certain officers.
He undoubtedly was already in love with his Bridge crew. Uhura was the best damn linguistics officer Starfleet had to offer, and Sulu? Best damn pilot ever. Chekov, well, he was about as cute as a lamb trotting through a field of cotton candy, but the boy had navigational skills, tactic and a memory that could rival Spock. Then of course there was Bones who he wouldn't serve without. That was the only man in the universe who knew how to stitch him up right and Jim just knew he was going to need some future stitches with his track record. Then there was Scotty. Jim had met the guy on Delta Vega and though his name was hardly mentioned (due to an admiral still being pissed about a certain beagle) there was no doubt that the guy would very well fuck the engines if given the chance and the appropriate safety equipment. His knowledge in starships just couldn't be rivaled, so he was staying for sure, if Scotty agreed to his formal request. But all these individuals were well and filled except one.
First Officer.
It was at least his third formal request as he typed in the name 'Lieutenant-Commander Spock' with a subject header written in bold reading 'URGENT'. As badly as he wanted the Commander to be his First Officer, he didn't want to really push it on him (and he really held himself back from hitting carbon copy several times to the same damn academy message address). If Spock had other plans, then he wouldn't stand in his way, but damnit if he wouldn't try.
But, wants more than needs aside, for a good portion of the afternoon Jim filled out requests for certain positions and read the recommendations from other high-ranked officers. In the end, he wouldn't have to choose them all, Starfleet would handle most of it, but this was more of an opportunity to let Jim hand pick his crew out of the many newbies and oldies of the Starfleet nursery than shove unwanted officers down his throat. If this upcoming five year mission was going to go smoothly, then Jim needed a dependable crew, not one he would pick fights with (which meant Jim was picking a damn good majority of them).
No one had expected him to do this during his shore leave, but just so you know, hacking the damn Kobayashi Maru had taken exactly three months to figure out and comprehend before he could accurately and safely hack into the system. He may have been a bit of a cheater (Jim liked to call himself an over-achiever), but he most certainly proved he was a dedicated, if not a potential responsible person. If he was going to prove to anyone he was command material, doing your duties when you should be slacking off was a good way to tell them to suck your dick without actually having to voice it and stuff like that, though, Jim was partial to the idea of writing up his formal reports in such a way that the rivers* in the text would form a nice 'fuck you' gesture when gazed from afar, just in case the 'suck my dick' wasn't enough of an oblique burn.
All thoughts aside, some of them more treacherous and cruelly playful than the last, Jim snickered quietly to himself as the last request form was filled. Jim knew he could send the data to the higher-ups via message transmission, but why go through all the hassle and potential Starfleet excuse of 'we didn't get it'? Looking at his full dataPADD, he stood up from his tiny desk in the entryway and decided he'd take a walk to Admiral Pike's office and deliver the data personally.
He could actually send the data to any Admiral he wanted to. Admiral Nogura would get it anyway, no matter whom he chose, but Jim still felt a little off about Pike's strange behaviour at the Memorial Ball. He kind of wanted to talk to him about it, make sure everything was good and all between them. The older, handicapped badass might have enjoyed his speech, but there was still some obvious tension in the air when he subtly told Jim to get Spock the hell out of there before he lost him again. In addition, the memory of Pike's fingers gracefully caressing Spock's chin sat like a pregnant pressure in his thoughts. When he thought about it, the Admiral really had no reason to touch the Commander like that, and it was only afterward that he discovered the faint mark on the Vulcan's cheek. Given the lighting, no one should have seen it, so either Pike had gotten super-crazy-awesome vision in compensation for loosing the majority of functionality in his legs, or Pike had a different intention before he noticed the mark.
Thoughts of that nature didn't last long as Jim dismissed his overly creepy attitude about it as natural protectiveness about a Vulcan he just happened to serve with in a life or death situation of grand proportions. Though, then Jim had to wonder why he was feeling like being protective at all. He figured it had just been the resentment towards himself for letting Spock get hurt on his watch, but something else, like a small flute playing in a large orchestra, was barely heard above the noise and tugged at his heart. If there was another reason, Jim could hardly sense it. So, he didn't try.
The halls were empty.
It was late in the afternoon and most classes were over by four o' clock. Jim felt a tiny pang of sorrow as he listened to his footsteps echo around him, his dark black uniform (the one the higher-ups wore, including Spock) blending into the stale grey scenery around him. Everyone was probably in the academy mess right now getting their dinners and late lunches, so it didn't really surprise him that he didn't see anyone.
As he rounded a corner, Pike's office being just six doors down, he collided into a very large individual. On impact, and Jim being the smaller of the two, they tumbled backwards with Jim hitting the floor harshly.
"Watch where the fuck you're going!" A brash, deep voice thundered. Slightly dazed, Jim looked up into the face of a cadet he wasn't familiar with. He may have looked overweight to some people, but Jim knew from colliding into him that he was all muscle. His hair was in a strict crew-cut, his eyes a piercing brown that some women may have found attractive, and his face was clean shaven against his dark, black skin. If he hadn't been wearing a cadet uniform, Jim knew he would have mistaken him for a wrestler. He probably was.
Jim lifted himself from the floor and dusted himself off. "Sorry." Jim told him, but the large cadet ignored him, muttered some curses under his breath and stormed off down the hall. His heavy footsteps echoed louder than his puny equivalents.
Note to self: try to refrain from pissing off guys that could eat you.
Ignoring the minor scuffle, Jim finished his trip and approached Pike's office. He rang the buzzer once. A muffled voice inside told him to come in, so he did.
Pike was sitting at his desk, the desk having been remodeled so he could slip in and out from behind it easily in his wheelchair. He had on a small pair of reading glasses which on the older man's face made him look more intelligent and perhaps a bit more attractive, but they were quickly discarded when he saw Jim. In the back of his mind, Jim was relieved to know that he wasn't the only one afraid of the optional eye-surgery Starfleet offered to correct impaired vision.
"Kirk," Pike started, "what can I do for you?" He looked busy. DataPADDS were all strewn about his desk, styluses were just about everywhere too, and then there were a few traditional papers lying about with one ink pen resting on top of a small stack. He felt a little bad for coming in there when the man obviously had a lot to do, but then he sighed, said to himself he was already here, and held out his dataPADD for the Admiral to take. Pike took it promptly and looked it over. His eyes only widened for a second before he set it down and glanced in Jim's direction.
"These are all you crew requests." Well, duh, Jim thought, he had kinda spent most of the day filling them out, he didn't need a reminder. "You finished them early. We weren't expecting requests from you for about another week, or three days before your commission. Or three hours."
Jim snickered. "Hey, I was tried for being a hacker, not a procrastinator." Pike gestured at the dataPADD.
"Well, I can certainly say that a trial based on that falsehood would rule in your favour easily. I'm impressed, Kirk. Does the academy not have enough for you to do?"
"Nah, there's plenty to do, just not enough time to do it all. Besides, I figured if I finished these reports early I'd have more time to spend with my friends." Pike's brow rose suggestively.
"You mean Commander Spock, don't you?" The sentence was more patronizing than Jim would have liked, but it was an opening into the real conversation Jim wanted.
"Yeah, sort of." Jim said in a way as though he and the Commander were best of pals and whether or not they hung out together was not really an issue. "I'm hoping of spending just a little more time with him to convince him to be my First Officer. He may have been emotionally compromised, but the guy is a great officer. I feel we could really make a great team with his logic pitted against my illogic." Pike didn't offer a reply but gave a small sigh and moved Jim's dataPADD aside. The Admiral took on an air of seriousness that the new Captain didn't quite understand. It was another minute before anyone spoke.
"Jim, I don't know if you've been told, but Starfleet has organized many projects to help preserve the Vulcan species. The number to date is only 11,726 Vulcans survived the Battle of Vulcan. I'm overseeing a lot of these projects and I want Commander Spock to be my aide." Jim's heart sank for only a moment. "He told me prior to your promotion that he was interested in helping his species. If he's changed his mind, I haven't been told, but as far as I know, he doesn't plan on serving on a starship. When I told him of the upcoming projects, he said he was considering my request for him as an aide, but I would rather his judgment not be hindered by a dual request for him as a First Officer." Jim remained quiet, thinking about what Pike was telling him. His gaze drifted, but Pike brought him back with a huff.
"Listen, Captain Kirk," Jim looked up, "Spock has lost everything. His people need him. Will you really deny him the opportunity to be with the only family he has left?" Jim had heard enough, and though he knew it was rude and was a possibly offensive enough to be discharged for, Jim stood and looked the Admiral square in the eyes.
"I beg your pardon, Admiral Pike, but it isn't my duty to decide whether or not Spock should serve with a starship or serve as an aide in a recovery program. I have submitted my request and should Commander Spock determine he'd rather stay planet-side and help his people, it will be his own choice. But I want him as my First Officer just as you want him as your aide." Pike stared at him but gave nothing away if he was offended or not. "Instead of bartering for his services, why don't we just let him decide when he sees the requests?"
Pike offered a small nod. "I concede to you, Kirk." He said at length. "We'll let Spock decide who is more worthy of his services." It was a challenge, and a playful one at that. Pike smiled daringly at Jim and he smiled bravely back. Their mutual respect kept them from harboring any hate towards the other, but this Battle of the Vulcan was going to be interesting. Spock was as loyal to Admiral Pike as he was to his own studies. Jim barely knew him and though he stood less of a chance against the evident friendship the Admiral and the Commander had, Jim wouldn't sit out of the fight. If Pike wanted Spock, then he was going to have to go through bullshit Starfleet regulations the same damn way Jim had to.
Heading for the door, Jim stopped before he exited, gave a salute and said, "May the best man win." Before Pike could offer a rebuttal or witty remark, Jim was gone, pleased with the outrageous odds against him because that would just make victory taste all the more sweeter should he beat Pike at his own loyalty game. He didn't see it, but Pike sat at his desk with a smile, accepting Jim's challenge.
It was getting later by the minute. If he really wanted to make his dinner plans, then he knew he'd have to head back and shower now before he'd be cutting it close. He wasn't nervous, a little skittish maybe, but definitely not nervous as that would imply that Spock made him nervous and Jim just wasn't down for that.
His lodge wasn't too far away and after crossing through the courtyard he would be in the temporary lodge building where he could begin his hygiene routine. Of course, Jim didn't know he wouldn't make it that far.
Just before he reached the doors that led to the courtyard, he heard muffled talking and heated words being slung around a nearby corner. If what Jim thought was accurate, it sounded like a small fight was taking place. Starfleet Academy did not approve of brawls, which when Jim first got there got him in a lot of trouble and nearly discharged six times had Admiral Pike at the time not bailed him out. Now that he was a Captain, he had the authority to stop brawls just as much as Pike did, so he decided to go and shut it down before anything escalated.
Worst. Decision. Ever.
Just as Jim rounded the corner, he saw the exact same bulky cadet that he had collided with earlier. His body was obscuring whoever he was intimidating, but Jim was quick to their aid. "Hey!" Jim shouted in his command voice as he approached them, "I would cite regulation against this but I'm pretty damn certain you already know them and would disregard them anyway." Then he saw it, the other person the cadet was bullying and it just so happened to be his dinner date.
"Captain," Spock said in his usual tone though the cadet had a large fist balled in his black uniform attire, "I have already cited regulation, and found that your initial assumption is accurate."
"Shut you damn mouth!" The cadet growled and threw his fist back to bring it in for a hit. It happened in slow motion for Jim as his panic overtook him and he hurriedly grasped the fist mid-throw. It was a lot harder than it looked to hold the burly fist back.
"Captain," Spock started again as the large cadet cursed and tried to fling Jim's small arms off him with the other fist still holding him to the wall, "by involving yourself in this quarrel you are—"
"I'm not really—" Jim ground out while still holding on to the fist that was desperately trying to make contact with the Commander's face, "—in a position to argue regulation, Mr. Spock!"
"But, you are—" Jim ran out of strength, the fist flew forward but only made contact with the wall as Spock maneuvered from the point of violence. The cadet howled from the pain of striking the hard wall, but didn't release his hold on the Commander. He instead, used the Vulcan as a weapon and threw the Commander around so that his body collided with Jim, making them both make an 'oomph' noise. Jim hit the floor with a thud and shortly, Spock was thrown by the cadet's ungodly strength and landed right on top of the Captain. Their bellies were sprawled out on each other in a criss-cross shape.
Before Jim could get his breath from the Vulcan grenade, the cadet came at them again with his large fists ready to impale them, but as he came forward, Spock reacted swiftly and grasped Jim's shoulders in something like a hug as he rolled them both out of the way of the iron fists. His poundings went straight into the floor making a large crack. It was after that that Jim realized the cadet couldn't possibly be Human, or at least not a full one with the amount of strength this guy was sporting.
They scurried up from the floor, Spock's hands still holding on to Jim's shoulders, but the cadet came fast and cornered them against the wall. It was almost like a bizarre dance as Spock rolled them and ducked them both out of the way like a crazy tango pair to avoid the onslaught of fists. It didn't help the cadet's anger much that Spock was still talking during the entire one-sided fight.
"As stated in regulation—" The right fist swung, Spock rolled them across the wall and out of the way, "—four point six A, paragraph B—" Clutching Jim's head, he made them both duck at once to avoid another direct hit, " subsection five, seven—" Spock turned them so quickly Jim felt himself become slightly dizzy as the fist landed mere inches from the Commander's head, "—fourteen and thirty-two,—" taking the small of Jim's back, he twirled him gently away as a fist crashed into the wall beside them, "as your Commanding officer, I hereby—" the fist was quick on the recoil and just as it came again, the Commander already rolled them smoothly left, "—inform you that you are—" as this fist came, in quite literally a dance move, Spock flung Jim out by his arm to dodge a double fist attack, then twirled him back in to smack the Captain against his body, "—unfit for duty and hereby discharged." The cadet ignored him completely as Spock tried to tell him his rights as a citizen but it only brought more fists to rain down on them, which Spock kept stealthily avoiding.
"Spock!" Jim yelped more than berated as the Commander dipped him back in what was like another dance move to avoid another swing, "I don't think he really fucking cares! And will you let me go?" In the brief ceasefire, Spock had Jim dipped back again and was holding his weight with one arm while his other hand had caught the cadet's right hook. He looked down at Jim with a blank expression he couldn't read before he inclined his head.
"My apologies, Captain." Then he released Jim who fell promptly to the floor with no more support.
"Thanks," he grumbled, but then the fist in Spock's hand was released and crashed on to the floor right in between Jim's legs. Did this beast ever tire out? Jim did a back roll and managed to throw himself back up on to his feet, just barely being missed by another swing. By now, the commotion had brought other cadets from their rooms and study halls to the hallway. Some were whispering, others cheering them on, but Jim didn't see this as a good thing. The cadet was blindly attacking and any one of the bystanders could be next.
Just as Jim predicted, the furious cadet lashed out at Jim, but he dodged it making the cadet spin around and throw another attack, which got dangerously close to an onlooker. Jim shouted for the others to get back and get security, and maybe someone already had, but the fight was becoming unbearable. In the midst of all the rage, the cadet landed a punch in Jim's side, knocking him over to the floor. Spock, rushed over to help him, but it left the Vulcan completely open to attack.
As the Commander bent over him to assist, the cadet came full force with a harsh fist ready. Jim panicked, grasped Spock's shoulders and rolled them over just in time for the fist to plant itself firmly into Jim's spine. He cried out from the pain, still clutching Spock's shoulders, then fell over like a dead weight. He vaguely thought he heard Spock calling for him, but he couldn't hear anything pass the hissing heart in his ears. Then, from the floor, Jim hazily watched as in the distance he saw security rushing to the scene, but they were not needed as Spock used the cadet's weight against him to flip them around, then swift fingers moved to the cadet's neck and he fell to the floor with a silent thud.
The cadet was quickly put under lock and key by the security team as the Commander walked over to Jim who immediately tried to sit up. It ended up being one hell of a hard task. Every disk in his spine cried out in opposition to his orders. He slumped forward, but Spock caught him and steadied him with gentle hands.
"You are injured." The Commander stated in his flat voice, though Jim could hear a slight strain.
"If Bones were here, he'd say it's my talent." Jim stifled a groan as he tried again to move. Spock didn't seem to appreciate his light-heart take on his injury.
"Do not move, Captain." Spock pushed him gently back to the floor, much to Jim's protest. "I will summon Medical." As much as Jim hated Medical, medical personnel, medical hypos, medical everything, his back was in too much pain to let him move about his own free will, and Jim tried to move of his own free will.
Spock pulled out a communicator with the Starfleet Academy symbol on the top, flipped it open, made a quick transmission to Medical and closed the device as efficiently as if it were his own palm.
In a matter of minutes, three Medical staff approached them, one of them a doctor he had seen around and knew as Bones' medical instructor. Without delay, both he and Spock were taken to Medical, which granted was a better place than Sickbay on a starship, but still just as heinous and sterilized smelling. At least he wouldn't have to listen to Bones tell him why the hell he shouldn't be stitching him up and how much of a damn fool he was for getting involved in bitch fights anyway. That was a strange thought, as Jim hadn't served with Dr. McCoy long enough to know what he was like in Sickbay, so how he knew Bones would berate him for something he hadn't even done yet was a bit unsettling. Maybe it was just a foreboding due to their odd bromance.
They sat in silence on the medical bed together. One cute nurse was wrapping a bandage around Jim's middle with a small heating pad to be placed on the struck spot, as the doctor, whom he learned was Dr. Burk, ran a tricorder over the both of them for the umpteenth time. He read it over, re-calibrated it, read it over again, then finally when he figured he had done and read all he could, sat the triocorder aside on a nearby surface, then calling his nurse, excused himself for only a moment, telling his patients he would return.
The silence from before encased them again. Jim decided to pass the time by bouncing his eyes around the room. When that grew tedious, he looked at the Commander and sighed. A lot was on his mind, and apparently there was a lot on Spock's too. The Vulcan looked like stone. His eyes hard, black, soulless. Jim wanted to comfort him, but found he had nothing of value to say or do. Deciding the best method to break the tension, he smiled weakly in hopes to garner the Commander's attention.
"Are you okay?" He ventured. His first thought was to ask how he was feeling, but anticipated that he'd get a bland remark about how Vulcans didn't 'feel' and opted for something a little more vague. Spock didn't answer immediately, but kept his eyes away from Jim, he looked upset, though anyone looking at him would beg to differ as his character was just as devoid as emotion as it typically was.
"My apologies, Captain. I am at fault for your current distress." That explained the sudden chill wrapped around the Commander. He was blaming himself for Jim's injury. Well, technically it could be argued that it was his fault, but Jim refused to believe that and voiced just as such.
"No," Jim argued, "that pompous fucker is at fault." The reply was quicker than he thought it would be.
"I could have prevented your injury had I accurately calculated his strength given his temperament and body mass."
"He was blindly flailing, he was bound to actually hit one of us."
"Indeed, but he was aiming for me."
"And he got me instead, and you know what? I'm glad he did. Now, all that bullshit aside," Jim relaxed back a bit, "are you going to tell me what that was all about or do I need to wait and read it in your formal report?" Spock went coldly silent again. He turned away, trying not to look Jim in the eye, but Jim could see them anyway. Due to the fluorescent lighting of Medical, Jim could still barely see the faint mark on Spock's cheek. It was then everything clicked in his head. "That was that guy from your 'minor disagreement', wasn't it?" The Commander offered no movements, but his shoulders minutely tensed. Jim sighed and shook his head. "You know, I could be going out on a limb here, but I'm starting to think your 'minor disagreement' wasn't 'minor' at all."
Silence.
It took a few moments, but the Commander seemed to give in to whatever logic was in his head, turned and gazed forwardly down at the three-inch shorter young Captain.
"Indeed you are correct. Considering my efforts were for naught and you have been injured due to my error, I believe I owe you an explanation." He steeled himself, and noticeably struggled with his next few words. "That cadet is the nephew of Captain Harold." Jim had personally read the 'Red List' of all the names of the officers who had died at the Battle of Vulcan. Captain Harold had been one of the first on the scene and the first to die. "He holds me responsible for his uncle's demise." Spock nearly whispered, like he believed it was true. "At the Memorial Ball, we encountered one another where our minor disagreement took place. He wanted me to discharge completely from Starfleet as he said I committed murder, but I refused him, stating that I had performed my duties. That was when he offered a physical assault as his refutation." Anger coiled in Jim's stomach, but he didn't let it make him react. "I ignored the disagreement as my logic calculated that the likelihood of him confronting me prior to being discharged for irrational behaviour was six point three-seven percent. With such low odds, I found it illogical to inform you or Admiral Pike."
Jim understood now and he felt horrible for it. If he had just paid more attention, had done what he was supposed to, Spock wouldn't have faced that bastard alone. Jim could have had this situation handled at the Ball, even if the scene would have mirrored what had happened just a few minutes ago. At least they would have been in public and the scene would have been handled quicker than it had now. To be told that you are responsible for the deaths of the ones people loved must have been hard to take. Jim had been lucky enough that most people viewed him as a hero instead of a murderer, but what got him the most was that the Vulcan still probably felt responsible for his own mother's death, topped with added accusation, he could only imagine what clouded the poor Commander's mind.
He reached out, patted Spock's arm, making the Commander look at the point of touch, and said, "Only a fool would believe such bullshit. You're not a fool, Spock. You were right, you did your duties and all that you could." He removed his hand. "My face may be the one plastered all over the newscasts, but to me… you're my hero." He paused, gauging Spock's reaction, but when he utterly saw nothing, he lightly blushed, feeling stupid for admitting something that a Vulcan would probably view as illogical, but then he quickly added, "I know that probably doesn't mean much to you—"
"Thank you, Jim." Jim stopped mid-breath, his lungs deflating, his heart stopping as he stared into the beautiful warm chocolates that were now staring back at him. Spock had just said his name! It had been the first time he uttered 'Jim' since the Narada Crisis. He had nothing to say in reply, completely stunned and for no other reason but hearing his name. It was baffling, and he felt like a creepy idiot again as his face blushed a bright pink. When he looked at the Commander again, his eyes had turned away, but a new warmth was settling around him that made Jim feel homey. Like he had sat on that bed numerous times in just this same setting. Well, his creepy-factor may have shot up about twenty percent, but if Spock didn't mind, neither did Jim (though 'slumber party' and 'basement' did rear its ugly awkwardness again). He smiled. Perhaps it meant more to Spock that he thought…?
To interrupt the moment, Dr. Burk returned with another dataPADD in hand which he sat down next to his other. Jim couldn't tell you if he noticed the sudden happiness filling the room, but his mood only darkened as he crossed his arms in true disgruntled fashion. What a buzz kill.
"Well, Commander Spock, you're fine, except for a little bruising, but you, Captain Kirk, have a mild muscle strain. I wouldn't go lifting any heavy boxes anytime soon or picking fights with gorillas." Jim couldn't contain his snickers.
"Can I fight a little gorilla?" He asked with a large, lopsided grin. A remark like that would have gotten him a punch in the gut from Bones, but this doctor only rolled his eyes.
"How about no fighting at all?" Dr. Burk deadpanned, unaware that he was sharp-shooting down any good mood that had been present. Wow, it was no wonder Bones and the medical students were always in a bad mood. This guy took jokes about as well as a face took an iron. Dr. Burk pulled up a dataPADD he had sat down and began writing into it with his small stylus. "Now, Commander, you can go back to doing whatever you want, but Captain, I'm going to prescribe some bed rest. It won't do you any good to be moving around too much with such a heavy strain." That wasn't what Jim wanted to hear. He and Spock still had their dinner date and didn't want to miss that just because his back got in the way of someone's fist. As he turned to tell Spock he was still on for the dinner, in spite of the inconvenient back injury, he was dismissed before his mouth even opened.
"Perhaps it would be wise for you to rest, Captain." That stoic, stone wall was back. He was cold and uninviting again, though Jim was uncertain as to why. Regardless, he wasn't missing this dinner and was prepared to argue with his dinner date to make sure it happened.
"Now, Mr. Spock, you know I'm not going to rest—"
"I premeditated this conversation and have already prepared an argument against yours. Should you feel so inclined, I will not hesitate to tailor my vocabulary to make you understand the illogic behind this endeavour."
"Now you're just being a jerk." Jim lightly chuckled as he began to put back on his uniform top one sleeve at a time.
"Should you mean the definition 'a sharp, quick, or sudden movement', your speech skills have been obviously impaired. But should you be referring to its informal usage for a contemptibly obnoxious person, then you are in error as I am neither contempt nor obnoxious."
"Or modest. Don't forget modest." Jim jabbed back with a large smile. Spock fell silent and removed himself from the bed to straighten out his uniform. He looked at Jim indifferently.
"You are correct. I do not see the benefit of downgrading my abilities for perusal of mutual Human respect."
"Look," Jim sighed as he zipped up his uniform, "I'm illogical—we already know that—and you're just going to waste your breath by telling me what I already know. So concede to the Human logic of the situation and have dinner with me like we planned. I mean, what's the worst that can happen? I choke on a crouton?" Spock thought for a moment, then inclined his head in silent acquiesce.
"Indeed you have convinced me, Captain." A small twinkle was in his eye when he said this, and though Jim had no idea how to interpret it, he didn't really care. This was just another win for Team Kirk. "However," Spock began again, "I will now greatly discourage you from ordering any meals that contain croutons as it would be most unfortunate for you to cease existence so close to the initiation of your first mission." Jim laughed and clapped a hand on his shoulder as Dr. Burk ordered them out.
"No salads for me, then!" Spock didn't offer a reply, but, and Jim could have possibly imagined this, it looked like he rolled his eyes in a Human gesture to say Jim was 'illogical' anyway. Whether or not he'd actually seen it, he just smiled and walked alongside his dinner date not feeling creepy at all—but as though, he belonged.
...
Dinner had been a great idea. Dinner in public—eh, not so much.
Jim had suggested three places they could dine, but the moment they arrived at one, they were bombarded with stares, thanks yous, and people recognizing them all over the place. They tried the other two and the same results ensued. It had been the four sisters that tackled Jim in a fanatic thanks that finally made him realize how stupid of an idea this had been. It's not that he didn't appreciate the gestures, but fangirling? Wasn't that what someone did for a rock star or something? He never would have made it away from the girls had Spock not began to bore them to death with technical talk. Jim never felt so relieved to hear a monotonous thesis on Trans-Warp Theory in his life.
After the girls went away, yawning ever so slightly, Jim took Spock's arm and dashed out the door. When they were a good distance away, Jim stopped and released him. He was getting desperate now, willing to eat dinner in an alley if it meant he wouldn't be recognized. Fame had its perks, but it also had its shit-tastically wonderful downsides.
As he looked around, there weren't many other places they could go where the food wasn't replicated to taste like default chicken. Plus, if he remembered his xenobiology class correctly, Vulcans were vegetarians. So a place that served real vegetables and fruits would be greatly appreciated.
He was just about to give up and opt an idea that they eat at the Academy mess when he turned to the sound of the Commander flipping open his communicator.
"Can you reserve my dinner guest and I a table at the Fleur?" He asked someone, then went silent for a few moments. "Acknowledged. Thank you." As said before, Jim wasn't an idiot. Even he knew that Fleur was a high-class restaurant in all of San Francisco. Before he could ask if it was the same one Spock had just asked for reservations for, the Commander nodded in his direction to imply that he follow and hailed a taxi.
They rode the taxi out about 60 or so blocks into the heart of San Francisco until they stopped at the very Fleur Jim had thought of. When they paid the taxi driver and stood out, Jim glanced at the Commander, impressed but worried as he took in the gargantuan scale of the five-star restaurant.
"Uh, Mr. Spock, this is a bit out of my budget." Spock was quick to quip.
"Then it is fortunate that you are not paying for this meal." Jim switched glances between the Commander and the Fleur. There was no way Spock could afford this place either.
"I think this is a bit out of your budget, too."
"Neither you nor I are paying for this meal." Spock said flatly and started for the doors. Jim stumbled after him.
"Then who—?" They approached the door where the Maitre'd asked if they had a reservation. Spock was quick to tell him that they were reserved under 'Christopher Pike' for two. Jim's face nearly hit the floor when he heard the Admiral's name. That bastard was on Spock's speed dial? He felt the prerequisites of jealously overtaking him, but they were halted as Jim remembered that Pike might be paying for their meal, but it was Jim who was eating with the Commander.
Heh. A free meal's a free meal. Jim told himself, suddenly not caring about his Vulcan battle with the Admiral. He might have won this round, but Jim still had a chance. He wasn't down for the count just yet. Pike would have to do a little more than provide high-class treatment to get Jim sweating.
As the Maitre'd confirmed their sudden reservation, he led them into the beautiful restaurant and towards a lift. All around him was pale lighting from gorgeous chandeliers, the carpet was a deep red colour adorned with velvet Victorian designs. They passed many tables and all were full with beautifully dressed people and out-worlders. Looking at an Andorian in the distance, he felt under-dressed as even with the man's blue skin he looked dashing in his white suit. The Commander showed little care, as they were both dressed in their black uniforms and some could say that counted as fancy, and simply followed the Maitre'd into the lift, Jim on his heels.
The golden gate closed around them as they were taken up several stories and into the heavens of Fleur. When the lift stopped, opened, and they began to exit, Jim felt a small tendril of déjà vu, like he had been here before and doing this exact thing in the past. But, that couldn't be true as Jim had never stepped on the lawn of this restaurant before. He followed closely behind the Vulcan, thinking how perfectly he fit into this scenery, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw their table.
The Maitre'd pulled out Spock's chair for him, and he sat promptly, turning his head up to look at Jim who hadn't taken his seat yet. Jim rubbed his eyes, uncertain of his vision, but it happened again. He saw Spock older, wearing something like robes as he placed a rose in the table vase. He blinked—and it was gone. His heart began to pound, unsure of himself, but not wanting the strange occurrence to devoid him of his evening, he ignored it and took his offered seat. He would just have to address this problem later. Now was not a good time.
The table was beautiful. Their chairs had a fancy art nouveau design about them, and the top of the table was covered in a silken linen, glasses set about with silverware already in place, napkins folded into the cutest star shapes, and an empty vase in the middle which the Maitre'd quickly placed a curved candle and lit. Jim had never been in such an extravagant place before and the scenery really overwhelmed him, but not Spock. The Commander looked as indifferent to the atmosphere as he did lecturing. Jim couldn't understand how it did it as the window they were placed beside gazed down on all of San Francisco, their twinkling lights fading in and out from the distance. They were at the top of the restaurant for sure.
How the Commander managed to look so impassive given the earth-bound beauty, Jim could not understand, but if one thing was for certain, the Vulcan fit in it better than any painting he had ever seen. It was like the finer things in life were made for Spock.
It was too bad that Jim felt he didn't fit at all.
...
A/N - *blush* Wow! What a chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! I really like pitting Kirk against Pike for Spock. Considering that both men were indebt to each other (Pike gave Kirk a meaning to his life and Kirk gave Pike his life in general by saving his butt from Nero) I think it makes a good plot developer. I mean, Pike and Spock were loyal to each other in TOS and I didn't really want to completely throw that canon out the window. I figured I'd at least give the Admiral a fighting chance. 8D