Title: Not What they Seem
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Summary: Cadet Kirk and Cadet Uhura have a mingle in the hallway, interrupted by the summoning of 'all cadets' to prepare to be shipped off to the aid of Vulcan. As Kirk excitedly prepares for take-off, he is sourly aware that the counsel has no intentions of sending him anywhere; therefor sparking an interesting conversation between him and Commander Spock.
Disclaimer: Star Trek characters are not mine.
Author's Note: This chapter is different than the others. I know many people are trying to figure out whether this is going to be slash or not – well, it has a suggestive slash to it, but I'm afraid this story is probably going to be too short for anything other than suggestion. It's really just to show how different they are, and it's kind of an experiment for me to see if I can write Star Trek worth a damn. :) I just HOPE you're all enjoying it.
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The time of night was unknown to Cadet Kirk when he made his way back to his rooming quarters, fumbling across the frozen floor with his still naked feet. When his knee painfully cascaded into the frame of his bed, Kirk felt notoriously successful in making his doddering sleep-walk all the way from the restrooms to the safety of McCoy's bedside. Tugging the light gray blankets from the tucked-in neatness of its making, the cadet yawned loudly and lapped his tongue around in disgust as the re-occurring taint of spew bubbled up from his breath. Fumbling himself into the dark bed before him, swallowing down the remainder of ill-smell, Kirk dropped his head to the familiar soft pillow and shut his eyes tightly. He had not exactly kept track to the precise amount of time he had spent in the bathroom, curled up next to a particular toilet he had decided to name 'Henry' – which, in that case, probably meant he had been in there for at least five hours, naming inanimate objects and all. Either way, he had missed out on a plentiful amount of sleep, and there were no reasons left for him to be awake; so, why couldn't he sleep? Cautiously rolling over, recalling the pain from the last time he had lulled onto his side, Kirk tightened his cheeks in a fractional attempt to force his eyes into seclusion; but to no avail. The tenebrous room surrounding was just as dark with his eyes open, and as he blinked into the night it became euphorically difficult to decipher when his eyes were in fact shut.
As he sat, stiff as a board, staring blankly at what he presumed to be a wall in front of him (though he hadn't the slightest clue how close he was to said wall) a seriatim of snores began to erupt from his partnering roommates mouth. Oh, lovely. Now he not only had to force his mind to quiet down long enough for him to get a wink of sleep, but he also had to fight off the sound of McCoy's droning voice. Flinching as the inward breaths of loudness began to vary in length, Kirk groaned irritably and kicked his legs out from under the light fabric, shoving his feet onto the cold floor for the second time that evening. Shooting a very aggravated glare in the direction of his partners snores – not that either one could see each other, even if McCoy had been awake, (it still made the cadet feel better) – Kirk walked with stiff legs to the door he had so recently merged from. Perhaps, if he were lucky, he could find a nice resting area in the study hall or... perhaps under his new sex partners bed. Smiling at the thought, Kirk threw his hand protectively over his eyes as the doors shot open, shying away from the pool of light that flooded into the room. Glancing back at McCoy, now that he had the aid of luminance, the cadet chuckled at the sight of his friends misshapen figure; sprawled into an uneven bundle, long legs hanging off the bed, and slightly drooling out of the corner of his mouth as he erupted into fits of snoring. Turning back around, satisfied that his susurrus would not awaken anyone, the cadet swiftly made his way from the room, just about knocking himself into another human.
Blinking back the shock as he stared into the face of Cadet Uhura, Kirk broadened his shoulders and smiled silkily as the woman's face twisted into a mixture of disgust and – could it possibly be concern? Of all people to run into in a hallway, it had to be her... how convenient. "Well hello, there. What are you doing up so late?" He purred smoothly, slowly folding his arms before his chest to drag out the effect of emphasis, and allowing his eyes to run up and down her body with a very obvious contentment. Oh, Uhura – such a stubborn beauty she was. And my, had she given Kirk quite a chase for the past three years, still failing to give him her first name after all this time of knowing each other – or, rather, of Kirk thrusting himself at her. A silent breath of relief erupted through the cadets mouth as he found himself humanly constricted by her attractive woman curves – thus only further proving his accusations that his strange 'infatuation' thoughts prior were, in fact, from the poison.
Pulling her plump lips into her mouth, staring up at the man with a twitch of her eye, the cadet leaned her body hesitantly backwards as to cause further distance between them. "Morning."
Kirk brought his eyes back up to the woman's face, staring at her with confusion, and squinted. "What?"
"It's morning. Not night. Three thirty, to be exact..." Placing her hands on her narrow hips, Uhura took a leveled step backwards and twisted her mouth into a scowl as she noted his adventurous eyes beginning to wander about yet again. Not particularly wanting to be violated by his glances, she reached her arm out and waved a steady hand before the man's face. "Would you stop that?" She then, self consciously, crossed her arms before her chest and twisted a lock of her hair between two of her fingers.
Chuckling and rubbing his thumbs into the corners of his eyes, forcing his gaze off of her body, Kirk slightly bowed his head and sighed. "Sorry, sorry. It's a little late, y'know?"
"Early." She corrected him again. She had a habit of doing that – it was annoying, really. She was lucky she was such an attractive woman, or the cadet probably would have lost his cool on her many years ago. But, of course, he had been strangely infatuated with Cadet Uhura ever since he first lay eyes on her in that bar back at his home town. Blowing out a heavy breath of air and shifting his cold feet around uncomfortably, the man recollected the night with distaste. "Are you still drunk, Kirk?"
Knocking back into reality, Kirk cocked his head to the side and flushed incredibly. "What gave you the idea I was ever drunk in the first place?"
Rolling her large brown eyes up into the air – those same doe-eyes that Kirk had first been so attracted to – Uhura turned her side to him with the egging promise of walking away. "Commander Spock told me everything." She then rolled her hips in a very suggestive mannerism and stalked smoothly in the other direction with an echoing tap of her high-heels.
Staring after her with a glower, his jaw hung like a horse, Kirk tried to decipher through the maze of thoughts that towered into his mind. Spock had told her? What gave him the right to have a one-on-one conversation with Uhura? How many people had that pointed eared bastard told? Was he going around in his haughty blue outfit and stammering out, to anyone who would listen, about how Kirk's moment of vulnerability had been oh so amusing? Practically fuming from the ears, the cadet curled his toes angrily into the marble ground and clenched his fists at the pugnacious thought. A thick cloud of umbrage began to form over the idea of Commander Spock in the cadet's mind, overshadowing any respect he may have ever had for the Vulcan. Upper lip quivering with a plethora of anger, he watched as Uhura turned a corner and disappeared – flipping a sudden switch in his mind. Aggressively shaking his head, Kirk sprint after the woman with absentminded knowledge as to why. When finally catching up to her, he grabbed at Uhura's wrist and turned her gently back around to face him – or at least he had meant to pull at her gently, though the spastic whip of her dark hair suggested otherwise. "What exactly did that pointed eared bastard say?"
Wrenching her hand from his grip, looking utterly offended (though he hadn't the slightest clue as to why), Uhura straightened her outfit and huffed. "He is your Commander – how disrespectful are you?"
Realizing that it was the reference to Spock that bothered the woman so, Kirk backtracked and held his hands innocently before him. "Well, I would have called him a 'winy little girl' but I didn't want to offend any present company." He offered her a twisted smile, amused at the disgusted expressions that colored onto her face. Uhura's mouth dropped open as if she were about to spit a mouthful of insults into his face, but he trekked over her before any of that could be allowed. "Just tell me what he said... and perhaps I'll give you a kiss."
Slamming her mouth shut, Uhura stared up at the cadet with a blank expression. Then, slowly, a smile curved over her lips as she intertwined her fingers softly before her. "I'll tell you – but only for the purpose of you leaving me alone." She then narrowed her eyes in a momentary silence of deep thought while recollected what was exactly said between them. "All Commander Spock said was that you had been seeking out a strong alcoholic beverage and had somehow stumbled across something that made you sick."
Kirk waited patiently for her to say more. When he realized that nothing else was going to come, he furrowed his brow curiously and felt capitulated to believe that she was honest. "That's it?" He said slowly, leaning against the wall with his elbow and ruffling his golden hair about the top of his head with the palm of his cold hand. Uhura simply caved her chin and raised both of her eyebrows in confusion. Sighing thunderously, Kirk twisted his head backwards as he fell pray to the thoughts that were incipiently falling to mind. That pointed eared bastard sure made it difficult to stay mad at him when he didn't do an ounce of harm. Hell. What was one to do when one wanted to be pissed off at someone – who made it increasingly impossibly to be pissed off at? Wiping his hand slowly down his face, tugging at the skin at his eyes, Kirk squinted down upon Uhura who was (remarkably) still standing in front of him. Smiling flirtatiously, the cadet pushed himself smoothly off of the wall and took a swift step forward, grabbing hold of the woman's shoulders tersely. "Oh, right, you wanted your kiss, huh?"
Just as Cadet Uhura was about to slap Cadet Kirk square across the face for even suggesting such a thing, a fully-outfitted professor with a streaming orange mustache came shouldering down the hallway while shouting almost in-audible orders. "All Cadets on hand! We have received a distress signal from Vulcan! Prepare for immediate take-off!" Exchanging a quick glance with Uhura, Kirk dropped his hands quickly from the woman's shoulders as they both barreled quickly off into their opposite directions. Ducking and winding around the flood of cadets that suddenly filed hurriedly into the hallway, Kirk ran with determination towards his personal quarters, clambering messily into the room when finally reaching it.
"Lights!" The cadet exclaimed loudly as he shuffled across the cold floor to his short-stacked dresser, yanking the upper drawer open to withdraw a smug-looking pair of socks that should have been white. Hopping around in a circle on one foot, Kirk pulled the sock furiously over his numb skin, catching a glimpse of his still sleep-submerged friend as he did a one-eighty spin about the room. "McCoy, get up!" Reaching down for his pair of boots, Kirk collapsed onto his bed and began to yank the shoe onto his foot, glancing back at the doctor once again. He still hadn't moved. "McCoy!" He tried again, latching his fingers hurriedly onto the laces and tying them into a distressed knot. Again, he raised his eyes to see if McCoy had made an inch of movement. Perhaps he was dead...? Grabbing up his spare boot, preparing to put it on, Kirk paused and twisted his mouth into a smirk; adjacently throwing the shoe with incredible force at the sleeping man's head. The boot bounced noisily off of McCoy's skull and clashed to the ground on the opposite side of his bed, causing Kirk to chuckled loudly as he rose himself from his own bed to re-retrieve it.
"What the HELL, Kirk!?" McCoy exclaimed loudly, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head with a wince and a curse.
"The planet Vulcan is under attack." Kirk said with a lack of bemusement as the more professional tone began to overtake him. "Get up. We're shipping off."
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The stubby man in the blue outfit that stood before the group of red-suited cadets read off the names slowly and clearly, enunciating each one as if every single one of them were deaf and mute. After he stammered and clambered around each name, he then revealed the ship in which they would shuttle onto. Each quorum of cadets was agog to get their destined ship name, and as each one received it, they would turn swiftly on squeaking heels and march quickly off into the direction of their shuttle. As the crowd surrounding Cadet Kirk and Cadet McCoy began to shallow out, it became dreadfully obvious that something was wrong. Every single cadet was being assigned out, which meant the danger of whatever attacked the planet Vulcan was greater than any one of them may have been expecting; but Starfleet was always prepared for what was to come, no matter what. Tapping his foot impatiently, Kirk's mood fell into a irascible one as the plump man with the small computer-pad dropped the board to his side and walked away; leaving the cadet and McCoy alone. Shooting his doctor-friend a look of incredible disbelief, Kirk rolled his shoulder blades backwards and pulled back the sleeves of his arms. "He didn't call my name."
McCoy, who had stayed out of respect to his friend, glanced after the stocky blue-outfitted man as he walked tartly onto a shuttle, doors closing with a whispering 'hum' quickly behind him. "Maybe he made a mistake?" He offered, though they both knew it was unlikely...
Kirk slammed his foot loudly onto the floor, causing a clapping echo to ring about the busy dock, and he glanced about him for any sign of help. Why would that man not call his name? Kirk was a damn fine Cadet who deserved nothing more than to be shipped out with all of the others – if not more than all of the others. Ice-blue eyes scanning the varying heads of hundreds of different busy-bodies, he latched curiously onto a very out-of-place set of ears that bobbed obviously above the crowd. Narrowing his eyes in a rush, Kirk nudged McCoy quickly in his ribcage and began to abscond. "I'm going to find out." Before McCoy could react, or grab hurriedly onto his friends arm, Kirk disappeared into the operatic crowd of flitting Cadets and Commanders. As the golden-haired man elbowed his way in-between muscle and finely-physique individuals, (ignoring the shouts of "Hey!" and "Move it, Cadet!") Kirk spotted the Vulcan standing hesitantly before a humming shuttle that threatened as if it were about to take off. His soft eyes were bearing gently upon a computer-pad held firmly between his pale hands, and his tightly-adjusted blue suit rose and fell with every heavy but calm intake of breath that he emitted from his nose. His dark eyebrows were furrowed nervously as he seemed to be making an internal head-count of what was presumably the number of Cadets about to deploy into space, and his lips held a thinly-locked line on his face. Obviously, there were some pretty pathetic jobs at being a Starfleet Commander.
Closing what was left between them, Kirk slipped to the Vulcan's side sharply and with a series of accusing glares. "Excuse me, Commander Spock, but why the hell -"
He stopped abruptly as the pale Vulcan threw one hand up in a silencing gesture, still holding onto the computer-pad in his other. "One moment of patience, Cadet." Spock said softly, keeping his hand steadily before Kirk's face as if it were a glass-shield of silence. The cadet stood shell-shocked, mouth slightly agape, using a large gamut from slapping the Vulcan's hand away from his nose. When Commander Spock had finally finished his counting, he dropped the computer-pad softly to his side and raised his eyes slowly to the cadet's face, emotionless as usual. "What is it that you require?"
"Yeah – ok – I require to know why the hell I'm not being deployed to Vulcan!" Kirk snapped instantaneously, his voice dripping with mordant as he pointed with emphasis towards the humming shuttle.
"You are grounded, Cadet Kirk." Spock replied swiftly, without a batted eyelash or even the slightest consideration of re-checking his sources. If Kirk didn't know any better, it seemed as if the Vulcan was stressing out behind that unemotional cover. But, it was no matter what the pale-faced bastard was feeling... what mattered was that Kirk was not on a shuttle.
The cadet's eye twitched as he shook his head in slow confusion, allowing the Commander's words to fully sink in. "Grounded?"
"Grounded." Spock repeated, caving his head to his chest in reassurance while attempting to slip hurriedly around the fuming cadet.
"I haven't been grounded since I was a little kid. You can't do this to me!" Kirk exclaimed, shifting quickly to the left, blocking the Vulcan's escape.
Rushing air out impatiently through his nose, but remaining as composed as possible, Spock pulled the computer-pad to his msucled chest and clutched onto it deathly tight as he stared the cadet square in the eyes."When one acts as a child, one is treated as a child. The counsel can do what they please with you." Though he was not particularly ebullient, Kirk was growing more and more angry with Spock's subtle attitude towards the matter the further the conversation grew. First he was going to tell him that he was 'grounded', then he was going to lecture him? Clenching his jaw angrily, Kirk relapsed the utter hatred he had encountered the day prior when he had realized that this Vulcan had accused him of cheating. This was entirely his fault, yet again. If it weren't for Commander Spock's dislike to Kirk beating his stupid test, the cadet would be aboard a shuttle right now and shipping off to save the Vulcan's own home planet!
"You need me to help, Commander." Kirk said bitterly, gulping down on the word 'commander' with a rush of redoubt. When Spock did nothing in response to this but blink a few times in obvious amusement, Kirk reached quickly forward and grabbed aggressively onto the Vulcan's blue sleeve with a taint of bewilderment. "Put me on that shuttle."
Glancing at the stronghold that Kirk had on his arm, Spock stood very still, smiling softly at the propitious suggestion of knocking the cadet into unconsciousness. But there was little time left for Kirk's immature attempts at getting his way, and the matter would have to be settled quickly and reasonably. Lowering his voice to a whisper as Kirk struggled to keep the everlasting hold on the Vulcan's arm, Spock spoke quickly and with words the poured from his tongue in the most canorous voice one could muster. "That is where you are mistaken, Cadet." Then, without much effort on his part at all, he brushed the cadet's hand off of his arm and stalked swiftly towards the steps that led up to the humming shuttle. Attempting to ignore the burning sensation of bitter eyes boreing into the back of his pale neck, the human-side of the Vulcan forced him to slowly turn around and leave the broken cadet with one more deprecate quirk. "Attempt not to miss me too much in my absence, Cadet Kirk."
As the torpid words tumbled smoothly from the Vulcan's thin lips, the duo locked a last gaze of anger for the final time. It was palpable for the first time to Cadet Kirk that Commander Spock truly had a human-halved side to his perfect appeal; perfect posture, perfect composure, perfect mentality – perfect, perfect, perfect! But, apparently, things were not always what they seemed, for even a Vulcan (half or not) could have a stinging sense of humor that only a human could muster as 'painful'. Staring in amazement up at the verdant-hued smile that twitched playfully at the corners of the Vulcan's mouth, the cadet's blue eyes stared with a blankly-numb expression up at the pale-faced bastard, who finally turned away to disappear behind the shuttle's purring doors.
Ears ringing with the echoing murmur of the Vulcan's melodic voice that had whispered teasingly towards him, the golden-haired man took three slow steps backwards as the shuttle lifted upwards and blasted into the direction of space. Staring after the hunk of medal longingly, a sensation of sorrow crashing down around his broad shoulders, Kirk bit down on his lower lip angrily as a melee of emotions bore into his skull. Never in his life had he felt so revengeful towards another being, half human or not. Kirk HAD to find a way onto that ship with Commander Spock, if it was the last thing he did.
Bastard.
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Heh. I'm thinking one more chapter will deem it successful. Are you going to read my last one if I write it? :)
