Love and other words...
Jim thought he was the expert at dodging embarrassing questions. Spock's better.
Captain's log, supplement.
...We are visiting Terra 6, home of the oldest surviving human colony in this part of the galaxy. Every ten years, Terra 6 pays tribute to their ancestors by holding a Fair that represents life on Earth on a determinate century. This year, visitors are witnessing what life was like on Earth in the 21st Century...
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Jim took a bite of his Submarine sandwich and munched on appreciatively. The different meats made for a great combination of flavors, and the bread… Well, there was a lot to be said for bread that was 'fresh from the oven' as the advertisement said. People in the 21st century really pampered themselves. This coffee shop alone offered a hundred-and-fifty different beverages, (a hundred-and-twenty from coffee alone), not to mention the dozen variations of foot-long sandwiches.
No wonder the population had had an alarming weight problem.
'But that was then,' Jim thought, taking a sip of iced coffee. He casually glanced at Spock, sitting on the opposite side. The Vulcan hadn't touched his food yet. He was still studying the wedge of vegetable pie they'd brought him; a huge slab lying on a nest of lettuce and toppled by a spring of something green and leafy.
Bewildered by the size of it, Spock had made a feeble protest to the waitress when she brought it, 'Excuse me, madam,' he'd said, "I ordered a portion for one.' And the lady had laughed out loud. 'That's a single serving, sir. Food portions were huge back then." And she'd patted Spock's shoulder before turning her attention to the next table
Spock had looked back at the pie… and was still looking.
"It's ok if you can't eat all of it," Jim said, "They'll just give you a doggie bag."
"A doggie bag?" Spock frowned. "You don't mean that literally, do you?"
Jim chuckled.
"No, I don't. Gee, Spock, they weren't barbarians, you know. What I mean is, they can pack your leftovers in a bag –a paper bag. They used to call it a 'doggie bag' because -"
Spock had visibly relaxed by the end of Jim's explanation. Encouraged, he picked his fork at last, only instead of digging into the pie he picked the sprig lying on top. He raised it to eye level, examined it from several angles then bit a piece of it. He chewed tentatively, then paused.
"Interesting flavor," he said diplomatically, but the tone betrayed the words.
Jim smiled faintly.
"You're probably not supposed to eat that, Spock."
"Why not?"
"'Cause it's the garnish."
Spock raised an eyebrow.
"Is it not edible?"
"Well, yeah," Jim shrugged. "It is. But it's only meant to decorate the food. You look at it, you set it aside, and then you forget about it."
Spock frowned.
"Do you mean it is going to be discarded?"
"Yeah," Jim said, enjoying the fact that he knew something that Spock did not. "That's how they did things back then," he added, sounding like an 21st century food style expert.
Spock eyed the sprig uncertainly
"Perhaps they will use it to garnish someone else's plate," he said, sounding hopeful.
"That would be unsanitary," Jim said patiently. He knew what this was all about; Spock worried about waste of any kind - a possible side-effect of losing one's planet, perhaps. "This is how they did it 250 years ago, Spock," Jim said gently. He lowered his voice, knowing he was about to shock the Vulcan. "They still used Styrofoam cups back then, you know."
Spock nodded.
"I remember now," he said gravely. He looked back at the sprig. "I could take this back to the Enterprise," he said thoughtfully. "It will be an interesting addition to our herb garden."
Jim smiled. This was a side of Spock few people got to see. The ass-kicking First Officer could be tender and nurturing too.
'I love you,' Jim thought.
He'd never said those words to Spock. Or had he? He babbled enough things during sex, so maybe he had. He couldn't remember.
He studied Spock for a moment. 'I could tell him right now,' he thought. 'Freak him out a little -why not?'
He opened his mouth -
"Do you love me?"
He froze. Where the hell did that come from? He, who'd dodged that question dozens of times in the past, (and when he wasn't dodging it, he was busy trying to to distract his dates away from the subject), had just popped it himself!
What the hell was the matter with him?
He looked at Spock. The Vulcan had put his fork down and now was staring ahead just like he did whenever he had to solve some difficult problem.
"Love?" he asked, frowning as if he'd never heard that word before.
'Not bad', Jim thought, genuinely surprised. Answering a question with another was a great way of dodging the subject. On the other hand... Well... Deep down he was kind of disappointed that Spock had dodged the subject.
And all of a sudden, he knew what his girlfriends had felt when he'd dodged the question.
Meanwhile, Spock was still frowning.
Jim rolled his eyes. "Forget it," he said, and he turned his attention back to his sandwich, only to find it gone.
He was eating too fast, he realized; he wolfed down food like there was no tomorrow, even when he was on leave. Spock, on the other hand, was only halfway through his vegetable pie. Jim could hardly imagine vegetables tasting any better in a pie, but Spock seemed to be enjoying them.
With no more food on his plate, Jim opted for conversation.
"So. What do you think of 21st century Earth, Spock?"
The Vulcan raised his gaze. "I find human's optimism on the face of impending disaster quite fascinating, Jim."
Jim smiled at Spock's diplomatic reply.
"They were in denial, Spock."
Spock nodded wearily, "Every culture is, at one point or another."
How like Spock not to pass judgment. Dr. McCoy hadn't been as discreet. "Oh, great," he'd said when told they were coming to the Fair. "Global Warming, Aids II, and Reality TV; what's not to like?" And yet, the doctor was enjoying himself. The last time Jim saw him, McCoy was riding the Chicago Fury Roller coaster, a small version of the original ride built in the late 2020s, but just as nerve-wracking. Or so the ads said; Jim had his doubts. How could a mere rollercoaster offer any thrills to a seasoned space-traveler? There was no arguing with the results, though; McCoy and the others were having the time of their lives, which in turn had made it easier for Jim to ditch them. He'd decided he and Spock were going to take the tour in a reverse order: First the exhibitions, then the nerve-racking stuff.
So far Jim had had a blast at the aircraft and weapon exhibition, while Spock had browsed books to his heart's content. 'Real books, Jim,' Spock had said reverently as he examined them up close. They reminded him of his mother, who had kept quite a collection. They couldn't afford to buy any of the books on sale at the Fair but they'd pooled enough Credits to acquire a book catalog, now resting between them on the table. It was yellowish and torn at the edges, but the illustations on the cover were relatively intact.
"They had an appreciation for beauty," Jim said, glancing at the catalog.
"Indeed," Spock said, touching the catalog. He'd been doing that -touching the catalog as if he were making sure it was really there. He was obviously in awe of it.
It made Jim smile.
Spock noticed.
"You're smiling."
"I like it when you're happy."
"Happy?" Spock repeated, and he had that blank look in his eyes again.
"Forget it," Jim muttered and he automatically reached for his sandwich, but it was still gone. Mournfully, he picked a few crumbs. Instant gratification; that was his sin. He rushed, rushed. He rushed even during sex. Especially during sex.
The sudden silence caught Spock's attention.
"Something wrong?"
"I've been eating too fast," Jim said morosely.
"Yes," Spock said, taking another bite of pie.
Jim eyed him a bit enviousy. Spock never rushed. Well, not unless he really had to. He just this own sweet time to do things, even during sex. Especially during sex.
"Maybe I should be more like you," Jim said thoughtfully. "You know, eat slow -"
"Maybe I should eat faster," Spock said reasonably.
"Nah," Jim said, "It's OK." He studied Spock for a moment. 'You do love me,' he thought. 'Why can't you just admit it?' And why he needed to hear the words out loud, he still did not know. But if his old girlfriends could look at him now they'd laugh... And laugh…
"Look," Jim said, nodding at the window. Spock looked over his shoulder. A couple of Vulcan cadets on leave were walking by, eyebrows raised -not in wonder or admiration; more like in shock. 21st Century Earth must have looked really primitive to them.
'Hell,' Jim thought, 'It looks primitive to me.'
Spock had refrained from making any harsh comments, but that was the diplomat's son talking, after all. What would he say if he were out there, with his fellow Vulcans?
"I guess you'd rather be talking to those guys," Jim said.
"Those guys?"
"Why are you answering my questions with another question?"
"Am I?"
Jim opened his mouth, then closed it. He narrowed his eyes.
"You're bullshitting me, aren't you?"
"Bullshitting?" Spock asked innocently, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed him. Yes, he was bullshitting Jim, and he was happy with the results.
"All right, Spock. You're mocking me. Why?"
"Because you let me," Spock said, surprised at the question.
Jim scoffed. Yeah, he let him. Simply put, Jim Kirk was whipped.
But so was Spock.
And the sudden certainty comforted him, somehow. They loved each other, whether they said it or not. And what's in a word, anyway? 'Love' alone could not convey what they felt for each other. There was devotion, for instance; desire, camaraderie -
Spock cut into Jim's thoughts.
"Would you like to try some of this?" he asked, and he pushed his plate in Jim's direction.
Jim looked at the yucky vegetables pressed into soggy crust and then he looked at Spock. The Vulcan was smiling good-naturedly.
'Oh, crap,' Jim thought. How could he say no to that face?
Resigned, he reached for the fork... But Spock handed him a menu instead.
"Shall you order another sandwich, Jim?"
"Ok," he said, mentally adding more words to the list. '- camaraderie, reciprocity... and total understanding.'
The End