Spock was immensely uncomfortable.

He did not enjoy the idea of standing, or even sitting, for several hours in a very crowded shuttle with people constantly boarding and vacating the area around him, with no consideration for personal space. His personal bubble was something that Spock very much protected and kept closely guarded. So, when most of the crew of the Enterprise was beamed down to the surface in San Francisco, Captain and First Officer included, Jim naturally said they were headed straight for the nearest public transportation station.

Naturally.

It seemed that things that made Spock uncomfortable had seemed to become only natural for Jim to suggest, since they had initially started to slowly form the odd bond of half-friendship they now shared, beginning with that first chess game and the invitation for Spock to accompany Jim home. Now, faced with the daunting task of enduring approximately six hours of such a close proximity to strangers who had no respect for a Vulcan's wish for abstaining from physical contact, Spock was beginning to regret his acceptance.

No, he relented after a moment's consideration, he did not regret his accompaniment to Iowa. At least, he did not as of yet. But, in any case, it seemed to be, however reluctant he was to admit such, even to himself, worth the discomfort simply to appease his Captain's wishes.

"C'mon, Spock. I've got our tickets," the aforementioned Captain called from several feet away from where Spock stood, back not quite plastered against the wall in a desperate attempt to remove himself from the main stream of the bustling crowd. The half-Vulcan had used the excuse of it being far more simple for one person to attend to their bags and remain stationary whilst the other required the necessary boarding passes. He had, of course, immediately volunteered to watch the bags and allowed the other man to go off to purchase their tickets.

Spock looked over at the younger Captain, who looked much younger dressed in civilian clothes, he observed. Jim Kirk was currently wearing a pair of denim blue jeans (his favourite pair, he would come to lament later on) and a simple dark green t-shirt that displayed the logo of a company that manufactured motorcycles, Spock believed. He also had a black leather jacket folded neatly over his arm to ward off the cool air when they reached Iowa. It was, after all, the autumn season, bordering on the beginnings of winter, in that particular region of the Earth.

Spock was dressed much more warmly than his companion who approached and grabbed his bag, jerking his head in the general direction of the boarding area, signaling Spock to follow him. The half-Vulcan, easily chilled by temperatures that were deemed comfortable by the average Human, wore a pair of black pants, plain and simple. Above that, wrapping his torso snugly was another simple black garment, this time a long-sleeved, shirt. Layered over that was a much baggier fitting loosely knit grey sweater that kept him quite warm. He had a black coat, as well, easily accessible in his bag, should the temperature drop any when they moved north from California to Iowa.

Then Spock simply did as was bidden of him and followed the young Captain. They fell into step easily beside each other and Spock found that, even though his legs were longer than Jim's, their paces were a perfect match without any conscious attempt to walk in a synchronized manner.

It was only a short walk to the actual shuttle that would be taking them to a small station in Jim's home town, but even in those few short minutes of walking, Spock was jostled by a passer-by more than once. Each time he made inadvertent contact with somebody, he stiffened, bristling at the small wave of notion it sent over him.

Vulcans were touch telepaths, as he had been required to explain to other crew members on various occasions. This was the main reason behind their general distaste for physical contact, especially amongst other species of sentient beings. Vulcans, as well as a handful of other telepathic species, had enough control over their minds to build up walls, blocking out inadvertent thought transferences. Humans at large, however, had no such ability without proper training and great attention. So, anytime Spock brushed against one of the crowd members, even if it wasn't direct skin-to-skin contact, he was suddenly hit with a surge of presence. And another, uninvited presence in one's mind was not a pleasant experience, especially when it was so brief and fleeting, leaving a vague sense of disorientation in its wake.

However, Spock noticed something very odd as they boarded the crowded shuttle, which had both seats and standing area. As they pushed their way through the group of people, it seemed that Jim had intentionally moved in front of him, almost as if to deter the majority of people who might accidentally brush against him. He continued his unspoken job as buffer until they reached the end of the row and gestured for Spock to take the seat against the wall so that the only person he had to actually be next to for any length of time was Jim.

Spock was immensely appreciative, but also quite curious. As the shuttle started up and he felt the inertial dampeners kick in, giving them the feeling of being in a slow moving car, he decided he might as well inquire as to Jim's motivations.

"Captain," he began.

"Jim!" the other cut in, startling Spock into silence with the conviction of the correction. Jim chuckled, "Please, Spock, call me Jim when we're not on duty. Especially when we're on vacation."

Spock nodded, regaining his semblance. "Jim," he amended, "I could not overlook the fact that, as we boarded the shuttle, you placed yourself in front of my person, deterring any physical contact with me."

Jim merely shrugged. "Should I not've?" he asked, his brow creasing momentarily.

Spock shook his head minutely. "No, it was a much appreciated sentiment," Spock assured, "I was only curious as to your motivations?" He paused then, waiting to see if the younger male would take his prompt and 'run with it' as the Terran phrase went.

Jim shrugged again, indeed running with it. "I dunno. I guess I just kind of noticed you were uncomfortable. It's the whole touch telepath thing, right? You don't like being touched by random strangers, because you get a peek inside their heads when you do, right?"

Spock nodded. "I was not aware that I was giving any indication of my discomfort," he said.

Jim's eyebrows shot up. "It was pretty obvious... well, it was to me, anyway. You looked kind of like a cat that had water thrown on it every time someone touched you." This earned an arched eyebrow from Spock. "But, I'm pretty curious. I don't know much about your telepathy, because you never tell me anything," he gave the half-Vulcan a pointed look and continued, "what's it like, those little transferences? Can you, like, actually hear someone's thoughts?"

Spock paused to consider precisely how he should word his explanation. He decided a metaphor would

be the best way to put it in relatable human terms. "Think of your thoughts as music," Spock began, earning a confused look from Jim, "there are several mediums through which one may listen to recorded music files. The two most common are speakers and headphones. Vulcans have trained themselves to think in the form of headphones. When two Vulcans come in close proximity, such as sharing physical contact, we only also share thoughts with a conscious choice. It is like taking one of the ear buds of your headset out and passing it to the person next to you, so that they may listen. Humans, and other sentient beings who are not trained in such a manner, broadcast their thoughts on a speaker, so that when a Vulcan makes contact, they may hear the 'music' so to say."

"So, you can actually read my mind, if I were to, say, brush my hand against yours?" Jim asked.

"No. It would take a much more sustained, lingering touch for me to be able to discern individual lines of thought without your consent. It is more like..." he trailed off, trying to form the comparison in his head. "It is like your thoughts are on a speaker, but the volume is turned down low, so the music is only playing very softly. When I come close, I can, perhaps, tell what type of music it is, but not the exact lyrics or tune."

"So you can.... tell what mood I'm in?" Jim asked, still a bit confused, but less so now than he had been at the beginning of the explanation.

Spock considered for a moment, then nodded, deciding the explanation was acceptable. "Yes, that is a sufficient comprehension," he agreed.

"Neat," Jim said after a moment, grinning.

Spock cocked another eyebrow at Jim, then simply gave his head a minuscule shake and was content to simply sit in companionable silence for a short time.

A/N: Yay for more Spock-centric stuff. I'm I doing okay at writing him?

MirrorFlower and DarkWind: Agreed, totally. And 'fascinating' is, like, Spock's official catchphrase. X3 Thanks for your constant reviews, by the way!

Knp10: lol I thought I might introduce the low blood pressure/dizzy thing early, since I actually plan on doing something with it later. So when I do it everyone won't be like 'wtf? Where did that come from!?' lol

mildetryth: lol Thanks! I actually came up with the idea a while ago and used it in a roleplay (You know what I'm talking about if you read, Becca lol) and I really liked the idea enough that I wanted to do more with it. And don't worry, you mad monkey sex is coming, slowly but surely -winkwink-

Mandiranda: lol, sorry I got your hopes up. Pon Farr is coming, for sure, but not for a little bit.

Mary: Here's ANOTHER Spock chapter for you!! lol The next one's a Jimmy, though! And Bones makes an appearance!

I'd also like to take a second to thank all the people who have been favouriting/alerting. Even if there's no first-hand contact, it's still a big motivator to get the emails telling me my story is being read!

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