The chime interrupted the poker game in Jim Kirk's apartment. Four chairs surrounded one of the square transparent tables in front of the fire. The two smaller tables held an assortment of drinks and snacks. It was a real fire, an expensive indulgence which burnt real wood and required a separate vent in the 'chimney' above it to filter the smoke. Jim crossed the room to his workstation and punched in his personal code, taking his cards with him so Bones couldn't accidentally knock them to the floor. Gillian's blonde head appeared on the screen and his mood lifted. "Hi Jim, my ship got in this morning and I'm trying to round up some company. Nyota told me everyone was at your house today."
"You've interrupted our poker game. Bones, Scotty and I are trying to teach Spock how to play again." Gillian grinned and replied "Good, I was hoping you weren't all avoiding me, I've left messages all over town and no one's gotten back to me."
He offered her his best charming look. "How about dinner? 1800 at my place?" Gillian smiled and accepted, taking his coordinates and promising not to be late. Jim couldn't help smirking at the other men in the room as he returned to the table. He pulled Spock's peanut bowl toward him, ignoring Bones' scowl. He'd be eating lettuce for the rest of the week, but it was worth it. They finished their game with Scotty taking home most of the chips, including all of Spock's. Excellent at calculating the odds, what aptitude he'd had for detecting when the others were bluffing had died in the engine room of the Enterprise.
McCoy and Scotty left, after making a smirking Jim promise to tell him the highlights of his date with the delightful Dr Taylor. Spock, despite his prior claim of work to do, picked up the cards, turning them over and sorting them. Kirk perused the menu of his favourite caterer and selected Salmon, Caesar Salad and Lemon Meringue Pie while Spock watched, expressionless. There had been a revival of interest in 20th century culture since Gillian's arrival, so the menu had changed. "What do you think? Will that put her in the mood?"
Spock's face was the blank mask it had been since his rebirth. He stared and ventured, "I am uncertain why my opinion would be relevant. The food is nutritious, if high in calories." Jim sighed, wishing for his old friend back. Spock had never been easy to read, but he had improved a lot since they had first met, and now it had all snapped back. Spock rebuffed all his attempts at friendship. He'd all but ordered him here today after learning that Spock's plans were to meditate on the ship for his entire shore leave. He suspected Uhura had something to do with Spock's sudden acquiescence to leaving.
"I thought you were involved with Lieutenant Fairbanks," Spock said and Jim detected disapproval. Spock had invited the programmer to the 'Enterprise' two weeks ago to consult on a problem with the ship's computer, to Jim's delight. She was a tall stunning redhead with pouty lips and a knowing look in her eye. She'd accepted his invitation to dinner and his further invitations later that night. When he had asked her for a second date, she had laughed him off, saying she'd had fun but was looking for something serious. He could be serious, dammit. Okay he had a bit of a reputation, but there was no harm in having fun while you were looking. In fact maybe it was time he settled down. Maybe Gillian was the one for him. All he had to do was convince her he wasn't just after a one night stand. "It didn't work out," he said.
He moved around the apartment, setting the lighting system to lower gradually over time and placing flower arrangements the florist delivered. To his surprise, Spock watched and adjusted the flower arrangement, they must be 1mm off straight or something, but at least he refrained from comment on the illogic of it all. Encouraged, he asked "Blue shirt or white," and received Spock's 'Humans are illogical' stare complete with raised eyebrow.
Spock insisted on leaving before Gillian arrived but as he headed for the door, the chime announced her early arrival. They exchanged pleasantries and Gillian expressed her thanks for some favour Spock had done her. He tweaked the arrangements one final time then moved into the main room and greeted her himself. In contrast to his expensive blue suit, she wore the white jean and shoes she had left the 20th century in, paired with a grey wrap around top with her pale purple uniform undershirt. "I feel overdressed," he said. She smiled and smoothed the dangling tie. "I'm officially a Vulcan now," she said. "I get to wear my jammies around and pretend they're proper clothes. " He laughed, and decided to buy her a nice dress and have it delivered before their next date.
Spock took the opportunity to slip out while Kirk kissed Gillian on the cheek and seated her on the couch. "How has your day been?"
"It's been great," she said, eyes twinkling. "Hikaru picked me up in a Huey this morning. The guy who owns it let him fly it in return for meeting us both and listening to a few stories. So I got in before the ship."
"The calf is going well, meeting all her milestones. They're having a competition to name her." Jim would have to be dead not to know that. If the news feeds were any judge, it was more exciting than the departure of the whale probe. "We're taking design applications for artificial gestation units. I favour the floating design myself, but some of the committee think it would be better to have several fixed units running simultaneously…" She broke off midsentence, with a rueful laugh. "Sorry. I don't mean to go on. I've done nothing but talk whales since forever. It's been wonderful. Like a dream come true."
"Want me to pinch you and wake you up?" he asked and she recoiled in mock horror. "No, let me sleep."
"What did you do after your joy flight?" he asked.
"Hikaru gave me a Judo lesson, until Yoshiko joined us for lunch," she said. "Then we took turns driving my truck around until the police pulled us over and we had an argument about whether I was licenced or not. There's no such thing as a driver's licence anymore but I'm allowed to drive if I have a pilot's licence but no experience driving a truck." Kirk rolled his eyes in sympathy. "The date on my licence is a little out of date, I admit, but I can drive. Anyway, long story short, I showed him how to change a tyre and he filled out the proper forms so I am now an official learner flyer and I can drive my own truck if I have a pilot with me to, I don't know, offer sympathy, or something."
"I have a shuttle licence," offered Jim, laughing, "If you need someone."
"I've seen you drive," she said with mock severity. "So what's been happening on the new improved 'Enterprise'," she asked, stretching out her legs.
He caught her up on the happenings on the ship with an amusing story made her laugh and segued into another story which did happen to involve him being awesome and saving the day. And in getting the girl, but he edited that part out. All up, a pleasurable half hour passed before Kirk suggested they begin dinner.
The evening took a distinct downturn when Gillian asked "But shouldn't we wait for the others? Where is Spock anyway, I'd have though he would be back by now?" Which was the awkward part where he realised the invitation Gillian had extended had been for a group outing not a date. He smiled at her though "I thought we could have dinner by ourselves." Gillian looked bemused, but was soon talking and smiling again.
Low, seductive tones of Aldebaran jazz thrummed through the apartment. He took Gillian's hand in his, urging her to her feet and waltzed her around the room to the slow rhythm. The curve of her cheek was visible in the moonlight streaming through the picture windows. His breath tickled her ear when he whispered the name of the artist and she gave a soft laugh. He slipped his hand from her waist to the curve at her back and drew her closer. She swayed in his arms, in time with the music.
She relaxed against him and he pressed his lips against hers. "I don't think…" she began.
"Don't think," he urged her. "Just feel the music," and bent his head again, tasting the champagne on her lips.