Title: Vulcan Determination (because it's so totally logical)
Characters: Kirk, Spock
Rating: K
Word Count: 712
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for Mirror, Mirror; takes place just after that episode. Fluff. And that's about all. :P
Summary: Missing scene from after the episode Mirror, Mirror.


Immediate ship's business having been satisfied, he had no objection to delaying a full report to Starfleet Command regarding their trans-universal jump until he felt more at home in his own surroundings (and uniform). He was only interested in falling into bed and sleeping off the tension headache he'd returned with as a souvenir from their little trip in the mirror universe, and so only nodded when Spock veered off their synchronized walk. The door opened at the Vulcan's approach, programmed to respond automatically to his uniquely lower body temperature. (1)

"Good night, Captain."

"'Night, Spock," he mumbled in response, covering a yawn in his sleeve, and then caught a glimpse of the wreck which was the usually immaculately-tidy cabin of his obsessive-compulsive Vulcan. Sleepiness forgotten, he poked his head in after his First, eyes bugging in curiosity. "What on earth…?"

"Problem, Captain?"

He stepped inside and let the door close, preventing any passing crew from gawking at their commanding officers. "What trashed your room, Spock?"

He received a tolerant eyebrow. "The living space is currently housing an experiment, Captain; the room is most certainly not, as you put it, trashed. I have merely not had the time to dismantle the project."

"It doesn't look finished, whatever it is."

"It is not," the Vulcan agreed, placing the stack of reports he carried upon his machinery-strewn desk. "However, the experiment is no longer necessary; the debris will be removed by tomorrow."

"I don't know if I should be insulted or not that my First Officer was spending his time on his pet hobbies, while I was stuck in a mirror universe," he chuckled, picking his way through the piles toward their shared bathroom.

Spock made no answer, which was not in itself unusual, but he glanced up in time to see a distinct lack of tolerant half-smile which usually indicated the Vulcan's amusement. Frowning, he paused – and then a certain schematic caught his eye as his boot-toe knocked against the padd.

Wait a minute.

"Spock," he asked cautiously, picking up the schematic and then glancing at the nearby debris-pile.

"Yes, sir?"

Okay, so he could recognize that too-innocent tone by now. "Spock, I may not know as much about temporal physics as you or Scotty, but I can dead sure recognize a tachyon particle accelerator and a temporal gravitation inverter," he replied dryly.

Yes, there went the guilty look, he could see it clearly from across the room.

"You weren't, by any chance, trying to build yourself a duo-universal transportation device, from scratch?"

"…If you are aware of another way to acquire or at least construct such a device, I should be pleased to hear it, Captain."

He chuckled, and gently replaced the padd on the floor beside its components. "It's never been done, you know, not well enough to be precise," he said quietly as he began to pick his way through the clutter again. "It would have taken you years, Spock, especially on your own."

"As Mr. Scott was unfortunately in your company, I was left with little choice in the matter, Captain."

He had moved into the Vulcan's personal space now, though Spock had not yet retreated, only was shuffling data-padds and styluses around nervously on his desk and quite pointedly avoiding looking anywhere in his direction. He finally stopped and perched on the edge of the desk, waiting until the Vulcan swiveled his chair to glance shyly up at him.

"Seriously, Science Officer," he said, smiling, "if that storm hadn't made a bi-universal reversion possible, would you really have spent a couple of years trying to find a way to travel between universes?"

"Negative."

He blinked, somewhat miffed. "Ah. Well, that's g-"

"I would have spent whatever length of time was required, be that two years or twenty times that."

Oh.

Oh.

For a minute he could only smile like an idiot. Then, reaching over the blue-clad arm, he punched the off button on the data-padd the Vulcan had studiously not been working on.

"Midnight chess tournament, loser has to explain all this to Starfleet Command tomorrow?"

"Affirmative."


(1) Contrary to popular misconception, Vulcans' body temperature is several degrees lower than human body temperature; not the other way around as many (even published works, sometimes) seem to think.