Did You Forget Something
McCoy's expression remained grumpy as the trio sampled the appetizer.
Jim asked between mouthfuls of a cheese spread on salt and pepper crackers. "What is this? Chef should program it into the replicators. And bring more." He reached for his communicator while adding five of the cracker and cheese snacks to his plate.
Spock delicately sniffed the hors d'oeuvre.
"You'll ruin your appetite for dinner," McCoy warned Jim.
"Your impression of my mother improves with each passing day," he countered while devouring his selections.
Olfactory analysis complete, Spock carefully scrutinized with his eyes the spread and its accompanying crispy flatbread, turning it left and right and peering underneath.
"It's pimento cheese, the pâté of the south. Chef's version is almost as good as my Aunt Harper Lee's and hers is legendary in five counties. Yet he insists on using fancy French cheeses. True pimento cheese is plain ol' cheddars and cream cheese with the pimentos and a dash …"
Having decided the offering was edible, Spock ingested the entire cracker and it's heaped topping. Several hacking coughs ensured.
"… or ten of hot sauce," McCoy finished while thumping Spock's back. "No, not water," he directed. "That spreads the heat." He handed the Vulcan a piece of bread.
They dove into the first course, a chilled carrot soup topped with herbs which is simultaneously tangy and sweet, waking their appetite. Jim's eyes gazed into McCoy's and lingered, not in contest of who blinks first but rather gentle seduction. "This is the point in the evening where you turn up the flirting. Go bold. Like I'm doing with you right now, don't take your eyes off your date. Steal touches, smile like you have a secret, offer bites from your fork."
"I have to admit, grudgingly, that's good advice," McCoy said while nodding his head.
Spock opened his mouth to inquire for further details.
Jim added, "If you do it right, by dessert the dishes will be on the floor and one of you will be writhing on the table."
"Do you ever get any second dates?" McCoy asked then quickly amends, "No, don't answer that. I'm an old-fashioned romantic at heart and I don't want to know that that abrupt interruption of the meal actually brings them back."
Jim's only response was a sly grin. He pointed to the soup. "This is really good. Is there more?"
McCoy addressed Spock, "At the Academy Jim never took his dates to dinner because they could never compete with the food on the table."
"I was, and am a growing boy," Jim reminded his friends. "And how do you rate freshies?" he mused as they began the salad course. Freshies is the spacefarers' term for non-replicated fruits and vegetables just picked off the vine. Every ship has a hydroponic garden as well as real, recently harvested food held in stasis, most of which is reserved for prescriptions and special occasions such as weddings or religious ceremonies. "I'm the Captain and Chef rarely gives me freshies."
"People like me," McCoy replied in a tone indicating the answer is obvious. "I'm affable."
Jim chuckled.
McCoy frowned at the Captain before turning to the Vulcan. "Well? Go on. Where's your bon mot?"
"The sheer number of accurate observations is negating my ability to utter even one," Spock explained with his deadpan expression.
"Overchoice impairment?" Jim queried.
"Indeed," Spock affirmed.
McCoy adopted his patented curmudgeon expression and waved his arm. "Oh good grief, how in the name of all that is holy, Jim, do you know the term overchoice much less the cognitive theory behind it?"
Jim placed a hand over his heart as if wounded, "I do read."
"Scanning a profile and then swiping left or right via the aptly slanged 'hook-up' Tinder application does not render one well read."
McCoy snickered.
Jim shook his head. "Ah … okay. No overchoice problems there, eh Spock? Moving on. So Bones, what's the Southern Gentleman's second date backup plan?"
"Hmmm … maybe a picnic …" McCoy paused. He wagged a finger. "Oh no, I'm not going to tip my hand and give you two stooges intel for planning your shenanigans!"
"I believe there were three," Spock informed.
The doctor stared at the Vulcan. "What?"
"Stooges. There were three, Larry, Curly, and Moe. Though Larry possessed the wavy hair, not the one with the eponymous nickname and …"
"At times it's like you're in your own little hobgoblin world," McCoy muttered.
Their third course was crab cakes for the omnivores and zucchini pancakes for the vegetarian. The intercom beeped. McCoy rose from the table and walked to his desk. After conferring with the caller, he accidently activated holographic mode. Yes, it was an accident, at least that's the story he was sticking to.
Uhura's three-dimensional energetic image formed near the table. Hands rested on her hips, rigidly; her eyes were narrowed, the corners of her mouth downturned. Her tone of voice was forced patience. "Spock. Are you, perhaps, forgetting something?"
"I believe not," was his serene response.
Her eyes narrowed further. "Try again."
"Has your shift ended?" he inquired politely.
Her answer is clipped. "Yes."
"The Captain and I are dining with Dr. McCoy this evening," he continued in a conversational tone.
Uhura's hands moved from her hips and folded across her chest. "Are you now? How very convenient."
Yellow alert Spock, tread carefully, McCoy thought.
Jim, in a valiant attempt to save his friend, joined the conversation saying to Uhura, "Spock was just telling us about your plans for the evening."
"I was not," Spock corrected.
Unphased and ignoring his first officer Jim added, "It's my fault really. Crew evaluations are due, actually overdue …"
"They are not," Spock interjected.
Jim flashed a charming smile at his communications officer. "The administrative sides of command are never ending. I asked Spock and the good Doctor for their help."
"He did not," Spock said.
Rubbing the space between his eyes with two fingers, the palm of the same hand hovering near his mouth shielding his words, Jim whispered to Spock, "Just follow my lead and ixnay on the unhelpful omments-cay."
Spock turned to Jim. The Vulcan does not quiet his voice. "Ixnay? Omments-cay? Why are you employing two languages concurrently?"
Jim's eyes closed for a second as his head bobbed every so slightly side to side. He continued in the whisper, "I'm not. I was disguising certain words in code."
"Ah. Of course. Swine Phoenician," Spock concluded. His smile was faint, his tone of voice pleased; his satisfaction resulting from swiftly and accurately identifying the encryption was evident.
"Pig Latin," Jim corrected.
McCoy's shoulders quivered from the effort to hold back outright laughter.
Having worked out what Jim urged he avoid; Spock defended himself. "It is not commentary Jim. I am rectifying your misstatements. Silence in the wake of falsehoods is an accessory to those untruths. Vulcans do not lie."
McCoy snorted.
Uhura glared at her boyfriend.
"Nyota," Spock addressed the hologram.
Her eyebrow leisurely raised.
Spock continued. "Your pupils are dilated, your body posture is tense, and your foot is tapping the ground. Are you vexed?"
"Uh huh," she said slowly.
Oh for heaven's sake. The pointy eared fool is clearly out of his depth. Yes, Jim and Spock have spent the better part of the evening teasing me without mercy, but there is a brotherhood code. Still at his desk and therefore, out of Uhura's visual range, McCoy lifted his arms and crossed his wrists, palms facing forward. He quickly moved them apart, together, and apart in a 'stop, don't go there' gesture. Then repeated the signal.
"Doctor, why are you flapping your extremities? Do you require assistance?" the Vulcan queried.
"Apologize and move on," Jim whispered out of the corner of his mouth to his first officer.
Spock turned to face Jim, tilting his head while favoring his commander with a puzzled expression. He answered in his normal volume. "But I have committed no error."
"Doesn't matter Spock … just apologize," Jim urged drawing out and emphasizing the last two words his voice still quiet.
Spock's voice was loud in comparison. "To apologize when not in error is illogical."
"You trust me, do you not?"
"Implicitly Jim, and Leonard as well," Spock replied.
"Then apologize," Jim repeated firmly.
"For reasons inexplicable and unknown to me, I am sorry Nyota."
Jim buried his head in his hands.
McCoy tried one last play. "I surmise you and our first officer here made plans for this evening?"
Uhura nodded. Her hands were again perched on her hips.
"For which he is tardy," McCoy guessed staring at Spock.
Spock's complexion paled.
"Yes. Movie night." She said, "And after winning last night's strip poker game, I choose the movie."
The tips of Spock's ears turned forest green. "Not my idea," he quickly murmured. "I am certain she purposefully lost the first few hands in order to gain advantage."
Jim grinned. "Making it a little hard to concentrate, am I right?"
"Indeed. Now I am committed to viewing something called a romcom."
"You have five minutes Spock. After which I will be really displeased," Uhura sternly pledged and terminated the signal.
The corners of McCoy's mouth twitched up. A wide grin followed. He asked, "Now who needs dating advice?"
ooooo
Near 11:00pm, McCoy answered the chime. He expected to find a lonely and frustrated Vulcan looking for a friendly shoulder to insult and therefore lift his spirits.
Instead, standing at the door of his quarters, out of uniform and smiling, I ask the doctor, "May I claim my raincheck?"