Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.~ Sylvia Plath

After Chancellor Heuri apologized profusely for the misunderstanding with the city's constabulary ("it's an election year") Commander Spock and Lt. Uhura returned to the Enterprise somewhat worse for wear.

Captain Kirk greeted them in the transporter room with apologies. "Sorry. We got you out as quick as we could. I'd file a complaint but…"

Spock nodded, indicating his understanding of why a complaint against a local sheriff would not be forthcoming. A communications array in this sector trumped the (relatively) minor discomfort of two Starfleet officers.

"You needn't apologize, Captain. You weren't to blame for our arrests."

"Neither was I, Commander," Uhura reminded him between clenched teeth.

"Your desire to speak with the protestors led the authorities to believe we were amongst them."

"Our uniforms clearly stated otherwise. That's why we were in a cell all by ourselves instead of the holding cells with everyone else," she said, stepping from the transporter pad after him. "I don't understand why you're on the side of a bullying autocrat—"

"I am not on any side, Lieutenant, I am merely pointing out the obvious."

"My legitimate interest in understanding the protesters objections to a shiny new communications array was hardly out of line, Mr. Spock."

"But not your place."

"I respectfully disagree. Sir."

"Your tone does not denote respect."

"Are you accusing me of insubordination now?"

Kirk, watching the exchange with growing alarm, signaled time-out. "Okay, okay. Calm down. Neither of you are to blame."

"I am perfectly composed, Captain," Spock said.

"Maybe you should let your face know," Uhura muttered loud enough for all present to hear.

"At least my brain still has control over my mouth—"

A shocked little "eep" came out of the ensign at the transporter console.

"Really?" Uhura shot back. "Are you completely, absolutely sure of that, Mr. Spock?"

The two officers locked eyes. Anger shimmered between them like the fumes from a combustible gas. Kirk cleared his throat theatrically. They both started and turned to look at him with matching guilty expressions. An expression rare enough in Spock to cause concern.

"Ensign, will you wait in the corridor, please?"

"Aye sir." The kid practically left a cartoon smoke trail.

Kirk held up his hands to forestall whatever was about to come out of their mouths – which clearly promised to be insincere apologies and more blame-casting. "I can't believe I have to remind senior officers about modeling decorum and appropriate behavior in front of the children. I know it's been a rough couple of days but come on!"

"My apologies, Captain."

"Me too, sir. It's no excuse."

"Besides, that could hardly have been the worst jail cell either of you have experienced since we've served together. I can think of at least three – no, four that topped it. Remember Pyris VII? Or Triskelion?" Matching stony expressions aborted his efforts to lighten the mood. "Um… right, well, clearly there are, uh, issues to be unraveled here, all of which will be easier once you've had a chance to clean up and eat something. We'll debrief after that."

After a moment, Spock grunted, "Acceptable, captain."

Uhura sighed, "Yes, sir."

It would have raised the captain's suspicions if one or the other of them had declined to share a turbolift, particularly as they were both headed toward their cabins on the same deck.

The enclosed space only served to ramp up the tension. Kirk whistled tunelessly into it, bolting for the officer's mess before the lift doors had fully opened.

They had roughly thirty seconds after that to clear the air before arriving at deck 4.

"You kissed me first."

"I would never initiate such an inappropriate action. Especially with a subordinate."

"And yet, there you were, all up in my face. With your mouth."

"Which you kissed. With yours."

"I am the kiss-ee here!"

"That is not what happened. I have an eidetic memory—"

"Then you'll recall the fact that I also have an eidetic memory—"

"But I am not subject to any emotional accompaniments to memory, therefore my version of events is more accurate—"

"Nonononono. I'm not letting you get away with that. I know what happened—"

"As do I!"

They were standing too close together now, flared nostrils and raised brows, breaths mingling in a hot, churning miasma. Someone was about to slap someone. Or kiss someone.

This was how it started before.

Spock stepped back with a small shake of his head. Uhura turned away from him. "Something's wrong."

"Clearly." He redirected the turbolift to sickbay.

"We are experiencing uncharacteristic and unprovoked—"

"Well…" Uhura ventured.

"Unprovoked irritation with each other since we were released from the holding facility in Superlative City."

McCoy barked a laugh. "Superlative City? Wow."

"It doesn't live up to the name I can tell you," Uhura muttered, then added with more force. "-and it was a jail cell. I had to urinate with him in the same room five feet away."

"I turned around."

"You could have put your fingers in your ears and sang la la la like I asked—"

"A ridiculous and undignified request—"

"More ridiculous and undignified than squatting over a loud, echoing metal bucket?"

Spock glanced at McCoy. "It was not a bucket. It was an ordinary sanitary receptacle for the elimination of waste—"

"Which you never had to use I noticed."

"Vulcans evolved in arid environments. Our bodies utilize water far more efficiently."

Though the statement was technically factual, McCoy noted the tone was uncharacteristically contemptuous.

Uhura threw up her hands. "Yes, of course. Vulcans are superior urinators. I suppose you all poop efficient little pellets, and your farts are channeled into the energy grid."

"Crude sarcasm. How predictable."

McCoy knew that Uhura was never crude and rarely sarcastic. And that Spock, though often perceived as cold, was never intentionally disparaging or mean-spirited.

"Increased irritation, you say." He clapped his hands together. "Right. Let's see what's up."

He ran a hand-held scanner over them, muttered hmm and huh and interesting, before informing them, "You both have traces of something similar to a benzodiazepine, with certain organic elements present as well."

"Sedation then," Spock said.

Uhura shot him a worried look. "I don't remember being drugged."

"Possibly through the ventilation ducts," he mused. "Intended to keep detainees calm, I imagine."

"Safe assumption," McCoy said. "And withdrawal can cause headaches, heightened irritability, mood swings, depression. It's usually temporary though."

A tiny furrow of confusion settled between Uhura's brows. "But that doesn't explain—"

Spock made a quelling motion with his hand, interrupting whatever she'd been going to impart. "Perhaps it was used earlier, to aid in dispersing the protestors."

"Oh. That makes more sense."

"Protestors?"

"There seems to be disagreement amongst the colony's populace regarding the proposed location of a planet-side base of operations."

"Ah. Local politics. Always a delight," McCoy said. He transferred his scan results to the sickbay's computer system for closer analysis. "I'll contact the relevant authorities. See if I can find out exactly what was used on you. Make sure there are no long-term effects to worry about." He turned back to them again, leaned his butt against the console, arms crossed, the picture of unworried unconcern. "Whatever it is will likely be out of your systems within 48 hours. I'll let you know if we need to do anything more aggressive. In the meantime, drink plenty of fluids and call me if you display any other symptoms."

Spock's left eye twitched and Uhura's gaze darted away to focus keenly on a not very interesting wall.

"Is there something else you want to tell me?"

They answered simultaneously. "No—" "Not at this time—"

"I guess you have a mission debrief to get to then."

"Uh, well, the captain practically ordered us to clean up first, didn't he, Mr. Spock?"

"A strong suggestion, certainly," Spock agreed.

McCoy narrowed his eyes. Did Spock seem cagey all the sudden? Uhura a bit squirrelly? A tingle of suspicion crept up the back of his neck. Suspicion of what he had no idea. He eyed them up and down to see if they squirmed. After a few long seconds with no definitive results, he gave up.

"Stop malingering then." He made a shooing gesture. "Go shower for the love of god. You both reek."