Spock woke to the piecing pain of brilliant sunlight sneaking through his blinds and punching him square in the eyes. His skull was full of rusty nails that rattled about his head, stabbing his brain. His first immediate action was to squeeze his eyes tighter and groan, as if the sun would listen to his complaint and shut itself off. He knew this was illogical, but the thought comforted him nonetheless.

When this failed, as was predicted, he pulled his covers over his head and immediately began to suffocate in the stifling warmth of his blankets. Utterly defeated, the Vulcan finally sat up in his bed and rubbed his face irritably. He looked over at his alarm clock. It was a quarter to ten. After a long moment of simply staring at the clock and scrubbing at his eyes, willing the cacophony in his head to calm down, Spock suddenly realized that he'd some how gotten home last night.

He continued rubbing at his eyes trying to make sense of how this had occurred, hoping he hadn't chosen to drive inebriated. He yawned and stared blearily at his door, which was slightly ajar for some reason, only then becoming aware of the sounds coming from his kitchen. He frowned, his eyebrows folding in a soft 'V' and rubbed his eyes again. Apparently he was not alone in his apartment, yet the young Vulcan was unable to bring himself to care.

After a moment, he somehow summoned the will to stand and nearly toppled out of bed. He managed to catch himself and then, with all the delicacy and grace of a newly animated corpse, he shuffled out of his room to figure out where that singing was coming from.

It only took him two steps to go from his room to the kitchen, his apartment was rather small and had no living room, and he was immediately confronted with the sight of a total stranger dancing about his kitchen, singing while he tended to something in a frying pan. The intruder was human, well built, with blonde hair and wearing a white t-shirt. He also wore Spock's favorite apron and oven mitt, a blue matching set with the formula of Warp Core Relativity on them. He stared, uncomprehending, trying to make sense of the man before him, for longer than was considered polite and tried to discern if he was still intoxicated or hallucinating.

The stranger turned towards him and stared back, his piercing blue eyes striking a familiar chord in the Vulcan's shattered memory, yet he still couldn't really place where he'd seen the man before. After along, rather awkward pause, Spock finally found his tongue and, despite it feeling furry and dry, managed to articulate something. "Please identify yourself and explain why you are in my kitchen."

The blue eyes widened for a second and then the man flashed him a radiant smile. It was too bright; it hurt Spock's head. He turned around and slunk into one of the two chairs at his tiny breakfast table. "I'm guessing you don't remember last night then." The blonde continued to smirk; Spock rubbed his eyes again and frowned. The man seemed far too chipper for early in the morning, and that was when Spock suddenly remembered seeing him at the bar. He remembered how flirty the man had been with the barkeeper and if he was suddenly in Spock's house, sending those blinding rays of charm his way…

It took everything the alien had in his hangover state not to groan and he buried his face in his hand, uncharacteristically annoyed.

"Would it be unwise to hope we did not engage in carnal acts?" The Vulcan asked, just barely holding in a sigh. He was in the presence of another, he had to at least attempt to school his emotions, even if his mouth felt like it was full of cotton and his head full of needles.

The blonde stared at Spock for a second and their eyes met. The Vulcan arched an eyebrow, feeling compelled to prompt the man to answer the question so he could go get shots if need be. The blonde furrowed his eyebrows, suddenly serious, "No, no of course not. You were completely blacked out man, I wouldn't do that kinda shit."

"I see." Spock commented, he was glad he hadn't bed a stranger and would not be required to visit a doctor within the next twenty-four hours. Somehow he still got the distinct impression he would've been more appreciative if he was alone to process the situation and a stranger wasn't rampaging about his house.

"Hey do you have any paprika or something?" The blonde asked, looking over at the Vulcan and pulling him out of his musings. The human almost started laughing again when he saw a flicker of confusion and irritation pass over his face.

"No." Spock said with an air that suggested he did not know nor care to know what was being asked for, the trespasser shrugged nonchalantly saying, "Ah, well then forgive me if this isn't the most flavorful breakfast."

The Vulcan stared at him, clearly not in the mood for chatting or breakfast. He was unsure whether he was supposed to ask the other man to leave or if he would go on his own.

"So. D.C." The blonde said after a minute with only the sizzling of the frying pan to break the silence.

Spock didn't understand, "Pardon?" he asked, deciding that it wasn't too uncouth to rest his arms and head on top of the breakfast table in his own home. He body was starting to ache.

"We talked about going to Washington, D.C. last night; hammered out a lot of the details…" The man paused and smirked at Spock in a way that irritated the Vulcan, "..but then again, you were pretty hammered." He chuckled.

Spock glared at the other man for a brief second but soon lost interest as the human continued to talk. He wasn't exactly listening and more, merely focusing of the man's voices. He looked the blonde over with growing irritation and was unsuccessfully trying to block out his voice as he started to rant about the freedom of D.C. and the Terran history behind it. It was utter nonsense. To Spock's sensitive alien ears it sounded like a marching band was pounding at his eardrums and he wanted to strangle the intruder but was too tired to do anything other than bury his face in the crook of his arms.

The blonde continued to rant for a while as he mucked about the kitchen, completely unaware that his audience was zoning out. Spock watched him grab a spatula and transfer eggs onto a plate. He then came over and placed it in front of Spock with a flourish, "Voila! Eggs ala me, with a side of Advil." He then held out his oven-mitt clad hand and said, "My name's James Kirk by the way. Since you probably don't remember."

Spock spent a long second looking at the oven-mitt held out to him, long enough for Kirk to feel awkward. Finally, after the human was about to retract his hand, Spock took it in a Terran handshake. Apparently the Vulcan had decided it would be safe since the cloth would block emotional transference but Kirk was completely floored that a Vulcan of all things had just shook his hand.

"I am S'chn T'gai Spock." Spock said to answer the bewildered expression his guest was giving him. He was unsure why he'd told this human his full name instead of using his typical title of 'Spock son of Sarek'. At the thought of his dad, however, he immediately soured and decided it was appropriate to introduce himself as unaffiliated with Sarek. The man would probably disown him anyway.

"Um…" Kirk coughed lightly and Spock realized he was still holding his hand. He abruptly let go and laid his head back upon the table. He was so caught up in his thoughts he failed to notice Kirk was attempting to pronounce his name. Spock stopped him with a tiny upturning of his lips and said, "My first name is unpronounceable to humans. Please call me Spock."

Relief filled Kirk's wide blue eyes and he smiled that radiant smile again, "Spock, well it's a pleasure to meet you." He turned around and began taking off his oven mitt, saying, "Anyway eat up!" He seemed to regain his confidence as he began cleaning up the kitchen, "That and a little water should get the rest of the poison from you… I was thinking maybe we could leave in an hour? If you're still up for it I mean? And my offer still stands-"

Spock wasn't listening. He got one whiff of the eggs in front of him and suddenly had another bout of nausea. He quickly pushed himself to his feet and all but ran to his bathroom to puke.

The human turned around at the sound of vomiting looked at the empty table and felt a little guilty. "Oh. My bad dude, thought you'd got it all out of your system." He scratched the back of his neck, a little sheepishly. After a few minutes he began humming to himself and sank down in a chair to twiddle his thumbs.

After about a half hour and the Vulcan still hadn't returned he looked toward the eggs and called, "Hey man do you still want these eggs? Cuz I mean if you don't…"

The only sound he got was another round of gagging so he shrugged and decided to give the other man some privacy.

About thirty minutes later Spock found himself sitting on the small couch next to his kitchen table with a damp towel around his neck to help settle his stomach. Kirk was furiously pacing in front of him while the Vulcan tried desperately not to zone out.

"Ok," The blonde was saying, "My offer still stands, same as last night. We're both heading east right? So you drive I'll pay. Gas, lodging, food, whatever, I got it. Car breaks down? I got that too, all I need is for you to drive, I'm not too good at that."

Spock took a moment to watch Kirk pace and tried to ignore the pounding in his head, the Advil had yet to take effect, when I thought struck him. "I believe we met at a bar in Berkeley." He said, pulling Kirk from his ramblings.

Kirk looked down at the Vulcan, with his flushed green cheeks and adorably spaced out, blank expression. He was obviously not all there at the moment, but Kirk decided to humor him, "Uh, yes?" He said, not sure where the alien was going with this question or if he even knew, "Yes we did."

Spock's eyebrows furrowed and his nose wrinkled slightly in an almost unnoticeable way as he processed the information, "If you are not capable of operating vehicles, may I inquire how we travelled from Oakland to my residence in Berkley?"

"Ah." Kirk stared at him for a moment and rubbed his neck, "Well, I promise you're car's still in one piece but, uh, lets say it was probably good there were no cops out last night."

The small 'V' between the Vulcan's eyebrows deepened, he murmured, "That would explain some of my discomfort." His wonderful, picture perfect memory recalling the few times he managed to escape the grip of black out. They were all moments he had puked.

"Yeah, sorry about that." Kirk shrugged sheepishly, "Didn't really realize Vulcans got sick like that."

Spock somehow made a face that managed to perfectly display his complete disbelief and disproval at such a statement without moving a muscle.

How could anybody not get sick with such an incompetent driver?

Kirk coughed awkwardly and continued, "Anyway… are you down? For the road trip thing I mean? Because I can understand if you feel like bowing out." He shrugged as if either way he truly did not mind, "It could be fun though, ya know. Unless you've got something keeping you here…"

The Vulcan's eyes widened a little at that and he immediately thought of his father's disappointed face and his mother's hurt.

"No." Spock said, "I most certainly do not."

He was on his feet in mere seconds, fluidly rising as though not completely hangover. Kirk found himself vaguely jealous of the feat. "Allow me to collect a few items and I will be ready."

The blonde shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets with a smile, "Yeah, sure man, no problem."

Outside of the apartment complex in front of Spock's ground floor residence and partially in his assigned parking space sat a blue hover car of Terran make. It looked similar to the Volvo S90 made in 2013 but with several more modern upgrades, such as a lack of wheels in favor of antigravity phase locks, which caused the vehicle to hover above ground and allowed it flight and extra maneuverability. Still, the looks were uncannily similar – perhaps because Volvo had somehow to survive the Terran First Contact Renaissance and the model happened to be an S900, the 2255 make, less than two years old.

The vehicle sat, unassuming, across three spaces designated for the residents of the complex. It was askew and partially parked on a flower patch that Spock's neighbor had spent hours meticulously planting. The patch now looked like the victim of a SAW movie.

Somebody would have to pay for that.

YAAAAAAAAAY Chapter 2's up and done! :D If you liked PLEASE review! They fuel me!