Chapter 3
Jim was amazed at the amount of paperwork he could get done if he sat down and put his mind to it. Sure, it had taken him until the end of his shift, but he had gotten the majority of the unpleasant chunk done. He wondered briefly if anything exciting had happened on the bridge, but then quickly dismissed the idea. Spock would have called him if there was anything worth knowing about.
Jim quickly gathered the remaining stack of paperwork and placed it in a folder and put it in one of his drawers. He found that it was also a lot easier to clean and organize when he didn't have as much of it. He smiled and then walked over to the replicator in his room and began to fumble with the settings. Spock should be here soon as he got off duty at the same time that Jim did.
There were a lot of vegetarian meals that sounded so unfamiliar to him. Things with rutabagas and eggplant and brussel sprouts...who programed the replicators on this ship? Nobody likes brussel sprouts, nobody. And he'd never eaten something with a rutabaga or eggplant either, especially not together. After a few minutes of experimenting with his replicator, he gave up and decided that Spock would just have to enjoy an old fashioned pasta dish with a marinara sauce. Plus, everyone likes pasta.
He waited for the replicator to finish the meal and then set the plates on his desk, deciding to set up later. But where was Spock? He should have been off duty by now. No, he should have been off duty at least a half an hour ago. Maybe something had happened on the bridge that required extra time, although Spock really should have notified him if anything had happened. No, he was probably just changing clothes and taking his time.
When another hour had gone by, Jim really started to worry. Was he being stood up by his first officer? He was Jams T. Kirk. He didn't get stood up! He looked at the plates that he had set up - the food was probably cold by now. He was surprised at the heavy disappointment that settled into his stomach. Sighing, he began to clean up the plates, deciding that he wasn't hungry after all and that he might as well just go to bed. He was so sleep deprived.
Friends were overrated anyways. He had Bones and that was all he needed. Plus, the half-Vulcan more often than not drove him crazy. All that logic was fine and all, but Jim felt like a conversation with Spock could taken directly out of a textbook. And who wanted to be friends with a living, breathing textbook?
A knock on the door startled Jim out of his thoughts and he groaned in frustration. He just wanted to be left alone to wallow in his own self-pity. Was that really too much to ask? He stalked to the door, and took a deep breath. He didn't really want to take out his anger on the poor innocent person on the other side of the door. It wouldn't be very captainly.
Regaining some of his composure, he opened the door and was surprised when it revealed Spock, standing stiffly with his hands behind his back. Jim stood staring at him, all but gaping. He had too much dignity to gape, but he was pretty sure that his stunned silence gave the same impression. Spock merely stood still, waiting for Jim to step aside to let him in.
"You're late," was the only intelligent thing that Jim could manage, and he couldn't quite mask the slightly accusatory tone that laced through his voice.
Spock inclined his head slightly. "As there was no specified time, I find that it is impossible to be late, Captain." He paused for a moment and seemed to note that Jim was still a little put off. "However, I do apologize for the delay in my arrival. I had personal matters to attend to."
Jim sighed and stood aside, an invitation for Spock to come in. "It's Jim, Spock. You're here as my friend not my first officer."
Spock seemed to consider this, but didn't respond and instead stood awkwardly in the doorway as the door closed behind him. Jim glanced at him before deciding that it was best to ignore him for the moment and instead work on getting food again. For some reason, upon Spock's arrival, his mood had risen slightly, as had his appetite. Plus, he was pretty sure that Spock wouldn't make plans for dinner and then eat beforehand, so he was betting that he was pretty hungry.
He began to fumble with the replicator again, quickly finding the meal that he had chosen before and waited for their meal. He glanced over at Spock who was looking around his room with obvious curiosity. He was still standing by the door, seemingly uncertain as to what he should do.
Jim decided to take pity on the half-Vulcan and looked around for a place for him to sit. After a moment, Jim realized that he regretted not having the foresight to clean off his table before having someone over. He glared at the table for being covered in clutter before coming to a decision that he knew he would probably regret later. He swept his arm across it, letting books and papers fall to the floor with a flutter and a thump. He smirked and pulled the table out of the corner so they would both have room. Well, no one could ever say that he wasn't inventive, if not a bit rash.
He looked up and saw Spock watching him intently, his eyebrow already raised, but Jim was pretty sure it was his way of laughing at him, so he smiled at him in what he hoped was a welcoming manner. It was probably best to start out with Spock knowing that he forgave him for being late. "I hope you like pasta, because that's pretty much the only thing I could find that had ingredients that I fully recognized." He swept his hand toward one of the chairs, a clear gesture for him to take a seat.
Spock hesitated only a moment before swiftly moving over and taking the proffered seat. Jim turned back to the replicator, which was finished with the meal. He went to pick up the plates only to discover that they were incredibly hot when he picked them up. Jim glared at them slightly as they burned his hands. It was only due to the presence of his first officer that he refrained from openly complaining. However, that didn't stop him from all but throwing the plate in front of Spock in order to avoid long term contact. He glanced at Spock half-apologetically before grabbing the two glasses of water and sitting down with him.
For a couple of minutes, the two of them just sat in silence eating and Jim began to wonder whether this had been a bad idea after all. He had no idea what to say and as each minute passed, the silence got thicker and more awkward. Jim glanced up at Spock every few moments to find that he was methodically focused on his food.
"Can I ask you a question?" Jim asked, finally, deciding to settle on something that had bothered him ages ago. Over time he'd just forgotten about it, but now that he had some time to talk to Spock, the question came back in full force.
"I welcome it, sir," Spock responded, looking up from his plate.
Jim rolled his eyes. "Jim," he corrected, but continued, "why did you come back?" Spock remained quiet and a confused glaze flashed across his eyes. Jim decided it was best to clarify. "I mean, I had heard that you had resigned from Starfleet and even if you hadn't, I could list several reasons why I hadn't expected your return to the Enterprise."
Spock didn't answer for a moment and instead looked down at his plate and began fidgeting with the pasta. He's nervous, Jim realized. "Did you not wish me to return?" he asked tersely after couple of minutes, a hint of sadness hiding in his eyes.
Jim was immediately horrified. "No, no, no, no. Of course I wanted you back. I wouldn't have accepted your offer otherwise," he said in a rush, waving his arms around for emphasis. "No, not at all. Is that what you thought?"
Silence.
Oh...well shit. That's what he really thought...what had given him that idea? After reflecting for a moment, Jim could see it. It wasn't blatant and it wasn't intended, but for a while, in the beginning, things had been extremely tense between the two of them. Jim had still been settling into his position as captain and had been fairly cranky all around. He had wanted nothing to do with his first officer at the time as they had both been on edge, feeling that it was probably best to avoid an all out brawl, partially because it wasn't what captain's and their first officers did and partly because he knew that Spock could beat him with both hands tied behind his back.
However, after the first week or so, Jim began to mellow out as he became more accustomed to the constant saluting and all the 'captains' and 'sirs'. He no longer felt on edge and had started to relax on the bridge and around his officers. It had nothing to do with Spock, personally. Not really anyways. It was just a...precaution.
Jim hadn't paused to think about how he had been coming off to the half-Vulcan, and quite frankly, he hadn't thought that he would mind. If anything, he figured that Spock would be the one to still hold a grudge against him. Although, now that he thought about it, he realized how foolish his assumption had been. Vulcans didn't hold grudges. Humans do though.
He almost groaned in disbelief. Now that he thought about it from someone else's perspective, he could see how, just maybe, if you squinted, he could seem a little less than welcoming. That was eons ago though! Okay, it was really just a few weeks, but Jim felt like his most recent outreach behavior should make up for his past coldness.
Well, it least kind of explained why Spock generally rebuffed his previous ventures into friendship. Kind of.
Jim sat down his utensils and gave Spock his complete and undivided attention, wanting his first officer to understand in no uncertain terms what he was about to say. After all, Jim wasn't the kind of guy who enjoyed talking out feelings and such and he only wanted to have to say this once. "Spock, you are one of my most valued officers on this ship. I wasn't lying when I said I would be honored to have you as my first officer. And even though we might have disagreements over how to handle some missions, I can't think of anyone else who I would rather have as my first."
Spock looked like he was thinking over Jim's words, dissecting them. He almost sighed. This was the second time in a twenty-four hour period when he had attempted to appeal to Spock's emotional side. To be honest, it was exhausting - but, surprisingly, not in a bad way.
Spock seemed to take Jim's words to heart and seemed to lighten up considerably. He didn't say anything, but then, he didn't really have to and Jim was equally willing to let the subject just die. They continued their meal in silence, but a companionable silence. While Jim didn't mind, it didn't really assist him in his getting-to-know-Spock quest, either.
"This was one of my mother's favorite meals," Spock said suddenly, surprising Jim. Spock wasn't know for randomly volunteering personal information without a significant amount of questioning. Progress!
"Pasta and marinara sauce?"
Spock glanced at him and then back at his face, his face giving no clue to what might be going on in his mind. "Indeed," he replied dryly. "I never understood what she meant when she said that she preferred one meal over anther. It was illogical. Food is for the sole purpose of sustaining a body and providing energy. As long as it follows my moral guidelines, taste is of no importance."
Jim laughed. "Yeah, humans put a lot more emphasis on taste than I would imagine a Vulcan would." Spock inclined his head and took another bite. "My mom liked pasta because it was easy. She liked cooking, but didn't always have time or energy. So she would make pasta."
"Fascinating," Spock replied, raising his eyebrow in a mystified fashion. "I was unaware that people still cooked their own food. With the invention of the replicator, it just is not necessary."
Jim nodded. "Most people I know do use replicators, but my mom always used cooking to unwind after a long day. It was always relaxing for her." Silence fell between them again and Jim was beginning to think this was hopeless. "So what was your mother like?"
Spock became still all of a sudden and refused to meet Jim's gaze. It seemed like he was facing some kind of internal struggle, and Jim wasn't sure he blamed him. It was a sensitive and personal topic and he wasn't sure whether he'd earned the right to ask that question just yet. He was just about to retract the question when Spock began to speak.
"My mother was a teacher before her union with my father forced her to relocate to Vulcan. It took her a while to adjust to the emotional suppression of the Vulcans, but she loved my father and therefore made the effort for him. I know that it probably disappointed her that I was not more like human children, not in appearance nor attitude. But she always supported my decisions." Spock paused for a moment, his face briefly contorting with an unnamed emotion before resuming its normal stoic expression. "As a child I was often the victim of cruel taunts from fellow classmates for my mixed heritage. My mother always felt guilty as she thought that she was to blame for how was I was treated. But she was a great comfort to me." Spock paused for another moment before saying softly, "Sometimes I wonder if she knew how much I cared for her."
Jim listened the entire time attentively. "I'm sure she knew, Spock," he said, unconsciously reaching out to touch him on the shoulder in comfort. Spock stiffened slightly but didn't pull away and lifted his eyes to meet Jim's. Jim took in the dark brown eyes and for a moment found that he was unable to look away. It was the first time that he noticed that Spock wore his heart in his eyes, although he seemed to be desperately trying to hide it now. He could see the doubt as clearly as if he had verbally expressed it.
"How could she know a sentiment that was never expressed?" asked Spock, tearing his gaze away and pulling away from Jim.
Jim laughed slightly, an attempt to lighten the mood. "She was your mom and moms always seem to know everything. I know my mom could tell what I was thinking or feeling no matter what, sometimes before I did myself." Jim shrugged, "It's just what they do."
Spock didn't seem comforted by this, so Jim decided to try again. "Ever heard the phrase 'actions speak louder than words'?" Spock nodded slightly, waiting for Jim to continue. "You don't always have to use words to express how you feel. I'm sure your mom knew that you loved her from all the little things you did and," he added almost as an afterthought, "I'm sure she loved you just the way you are and wasn't disappointed in the slightest."
Spock's faced flush a light tinge of green and Jim felt himself embarrassed for his own emotional display that evening. They needed to find a less sensitive topic if they wanted to retain any of their sense of manliness...or Vulcan-ness.
Unfortunately, their conversation about Spock's mother seemed to lead to him closing himself off to any other attempts at a conversation. All of Jim's prime topics went no where, leaving him frustrated and Spock even more withdrawn than usual. It wasn't long before Spock excused himself, thanking Jim before he took his leave.
After Spock was gone, Jim sank down onto his bed, feeling a sense of despair come over him. Despite how well he had thought their dinner was going, the topic of Spock's mom had probably been a bad decision on Jim's part. It was too soon to ask the half-Vulcan such personal questions. Especially if said personal questions revolved around a recently deceased mother.
Regardless, tonight could be viewed as a giant step backwards. Sure Spock had opened up, but right now it didn't seem to be worth the cost.
There was a knock on the door. Jim started at the sound and then turned to glare at the intruder, even if he had no idea who it was. Who could it be at this hour?
He stood up and opened the door, grumbling under his breath about how the ship better be plunging into an inferno of fiery death if they were disturbing him at this hour. When the door opened, he was stunned when he saw Spock again. He hadn't even been gone for thirty minutes...was he that displeased with their evening that he felt like he needed to yell at him for it? In a calm, Vulcan manner of course.
"What's up, Spock?" Jim asked tiredly.
Spock paused for a moment as if he had no idea why he was here. Indeed, he did look rather confused about the entire situation. Well, as confused as a Vulcan could look. Jim raised his eyebrows, waiting impatiently for his first officer to say whatever it was he had to say. "I wanted to express my gratitude for this evening," he finally said, sounding a lot more sincere than he had when he'd first left Jim's quarters.
"It was nothing, Spock," Jim replied, sounding mildly surprised.
"Indeed."
Silence.
"Good night, Spock."
"Good night...Jim."
Jim's heart stopped short in his chest. He knew it! Spock said his name! Ha, had he called that, or what! Maybe tonight wasn't such a failure after all.
A.N.
So, I have learned that Spock speak is harder to write than you'd think. So I'm sorry if it sounds horribly out of character and horrible. I'm making efforts to improve it. Thanks for the reviews guys. I'm going to try to keep up a fairly regular updating schedule.