Jim starrte die Waffe anklagend an, als sei schon ihre bloße Existenz eine Beleidigung. Was in gewisser Weise zutraf. Dann seufzte er und rollte sich herum, hörte die gedämpften Geräusche, die aus dem Bad kamen, und fragte sich, wie spät es war. Er hatte tief geschlafen, das stand fest - er hatte das Gefühl, sich in der Nacht pberhaupt nicht bewegt zu haben, so steif waren seine Gliedmaßen. Ich hätte nicht in dieser Lage einschlafen sollen, dachte er und bereute die komische Position, die er nur zu dem Zweck der Spock-Beobachtung eingenommen hatte.
Er erwog gerade, sich in eine etwas aufrechtere Position zu begeben, als die Badezimmertür aufglitt und sein Erster Offizier herauskam, ganz sein übliches makelloses Selbst.
"Hey," grüßte er mit rauher Stimme und zuckte zusammen. Seine Kehle hatte die Nacht mit wenig Würde überstanden.
"Guten Morgen, Jim," antwortete Spock in einem für seine Verhältnisse recht freundlichenTonfall. Dann ging er zum Schreibtisch und aktivierte die Sternenflotten-Computerkonsole. "Ich befürchte, es wird mir heute morgen unmöglich sein, mich ihren Aktivitäten anzuschließen. Jetzt, wo wir hier sind, warten mehrere Projekte auf mich, die meine Stellungnahme angefordert haben," sagte er geradeheraus und sachlich, was für Jims kaum richtig wachen Geist fast zuviel war.
"Oh," war sein beherzter Beitrag, dann sah er sich nach einer Uhr um.
Spock sah ihn an. "Ich informiere Sie darüber, damit sie nicht glauben, ich vermeide einfach nur Ihre Nähe," erklärte er, während seine Finger mühelos über die Tastatur glitten. "Wären Sie bereit, sich mir beim Mittagessen anzuschließen?"
Er klang fast zögernd, als er die Einladung aussprach. Jim blinzelte.
"Klingt gut," erwiderte er schläfrig und schwang die Beine über die Seite des Betts. Er sah nicht, wie Spocks Augen rasch über die verblassenden Narben auf seinem nackten Rücken glitten, die von seinem Aufprall auf der Wand gestern stammten. Er sah jedoch sehr wohl, wie die Haltung seines Freundes sich versteifte und er plötzlich etwas von seiner freundlichen Art verlor und kühler wurde.
Ein steifes zustimmendes Nicken war die einzige Antwort, die er bekam. Jim entschied, dass er nicht wach genug war um 'Rate mal, was mit Spock nicht stimmt' zu spielen, und ging daher stattdessen ins Bad.
Als er schließlich zurück kan, jetzt vollkommen wach und in der Lage, mit sonderbaren vulkanischen Stimmungsschwankungen fertig zu werden, war Spock gegangen. Mit einem Seufzer ging er zum Nachttisch und sah auf den Phaser hinunter. Er hatte gesagt, er würde ihn tragen.
Er hatte nicht gesagt, dass er ihn benutzen würde.
Es fühlte sich an, als bereitete er sich auf eine Außenmission vor, als er ihn an seinem Körper befestigte und überlegte, was er als nächstes tun sollte. Er hatte die Optionen A: den alten Spock anzurufen, damit er ihn anschreien konnte; B: mit der zweifellos qualvollen Prozedur zu beginnen, sich die Starfleetverwaltung vom Hals zu schaffen (da er jetzt wusste, dass sie dort war), und C: Bones anzurufen, ob er Lust auf ein schnelles Frühstück hatte.
Er entschied sich für C. Die Zeit zum Frühstücken war schließlich begrenzt.
Er ging hinüber zur Konsole, fand heraus, in welchem Zimmer der Chfarzt wohnte, und schockte eine Videobotschaft. Er wusste, dass Bones während des Landurlaubs in der Nähe des Hauptquartiers bleiben und an seiner Forschung arbeiten wollte. Jetzt war er froh darüber.
Der Videoanruf 'läutete' einige Zeit, bevor schließlich ein vertrautes, schlecht gelauntes Gesicht vor ihm auftauchte. "Jim?", sagte Bones mürrisch. "Warum zur Hölle rufst du mich um-". er unterbrach sich und sah nach links, "sechs Uhr morgens an?"
Jim grinste. "Oh? Ist das die aktuelle Zeit?", fragte er und fühlte nicht annähernd so schuldbewusst, wie er sollte.
-------------------
“Goddammit, man, you better be calling to tell me that Spock’s dead, because anything else doesn’t deserve to get me out of bed this early on vacation,” Bones grumbled back at him. Jim laughed.
"Gottverdammt, Mann, ich hoffe für dich, du rufst an, um mir zu sagen, dass Spock tot ist, weil alles andere
“No, Spock’s fine,” he assured him, and then his brain momentarily hesitated over that answer, because it wasn’t exactly true. But he wasn’t going to allude to that. “I just thought you might want to meet for breakfast.”
Bones looked at him like he’d grown another head. “Aren’t you in Canada?” he asked. Jim’s grin widened.
“Nope,” he replied. “We drove down yesterday. You know me – I can’t sit still.”
He decided to take the grunt he got by way of response as acknowledgement.
Bones agreed to meet him for breakfast, albeit with much dark muttering and swearing involved. Jim happily left the sparse, tiny quarters, looking forward to it – on the ship he’d taken most of his meals with his surly friend, and even though Spock was excellent company, he was also completely different. He had to walk halfway across the complex to get to their agreed upon place, but that at least gave Bones time to wake up. More or less.
When he got there, he was greeted very warmly.
“God damn you, what the hell kind of a friend wakes a man up at six a.m. to take him to a place that serves cantaloupe for breakfast?” Bones demanded as they found their table, and were immediately provided with drinks and a bowl of fruit as appetizer.
Jim gave him an amused look. “Hey, Bones? You picked this place,” he replied.
His response was a very non-committal snort.
“Well I wouldn’t have if I’da known they’d go all cantaloupe on me,” he muttered, and then, the very picture of hypocrisy, picked up a cube and popped it in his mouth. “So. You and the hobgoblin having a relaxing vacation?”
Poor Jim, who had been drinking his quite welcome glass of water, nearly sprayed it onto his friend. Bones immediately realized his danger as he sputtered, and leaned back as far as his chair would allow him to.
“Should I take that as a ‘no’?” he asked.
When Jim finally felt like it was safe to talk again, he shook his head. “It’s definitely a ‘no’,” he agreed. “I’d think I was still on duty, but nobody’s called me ‘sir’ in too long.”
McCoy grimaced. “Well, what the hell did you expect, running around with him? Good lord, how anyone would want to vacation with a statue is beyond me. I been wracking my brain trying to figure out what you’re up to since you told me,” he said. Then, as if it had just occurred to him, he added: “And what in god’s name was that crack about me and your mother?”
“It isn’t Spock’s fault,” Jim defended, deciding that it would be best not to mention the mood swings, and not wanting to broach the topic of their little joke just then. “We’ve just been unlucky.”
Bones’ eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with your voice? What did you do to your throat?” he asked suddenly, leaning forward, as if he intended to peer down through Jim’s mouth. Naturally, Jim did not oblige him.
“I just had a little mishap, that’s all,” he said, taking his own turn to lean back and wondering if his voice really did sound strange. Listening to himself as he spoke, he supposed it sort of did. Damn but the good doctor was too observant for his tastes sometimes.
“A ‘little mishap’ for you is mortal peril for another man,” Bones replied cynically, and Jim flinched, remembering what Spock had said about internal parts melting and hearts nearly stopping. Unfortunately for him, his friend caught it, and scowled. “Out with it! What happened? Do I need my medical bag? Dammit, I knew I shoulda brought it…”
“I’m fine!” Jim insisted. “Spock took me to a hospital. I swear, they told me I could leave and everything.”
It was no good, however. Eventually Bones ground the story out of him, and once he had, he was Not Happy.
“Let me get this straight,” he said, his voice low and a little growling. “You went and got drunk, then drank some freaky alien hangover remedy, then went to brush your teeth and nearly dissolved yourself, and then got admitted to a hospital where they gave you something else that almost killed you?”
“…Yes.”
“Goddammit, Jim, what were you thinking? You realize you could have died? I leave you alone for a few days, and you’re getting into bar fights and poisoning yourself left and right! Hell’s bells, what do I have to do, pin a note to you that says ‘Hello, my name’s James and I’m a suicidal masochist! Please don’t encourage me!’?”
“Hey!” Jim exclaimed, offended. But he couldn’t really think of anything else to follow it up with. Alright, so, if you laid it all out then he looked like an idiot… and if you took it in pieces he looked like an idiot, but that wasn’t the point.
Whatever actually was the point might have been eluding him, but Jim was very clear on what it was not.
Bones glared at him for a while, and muttered a bit, and then subsided. “So,” he said, changing the topic rather than continuing his rant. “What are you doing with our illustrious first officer, anyway? If I’d known you were that desperate for someone to go home with you, Jim, I’d have done it. You didn’t need to go asking anyone who’d listen.”
Jim shook his head. “It wasn’t like that,” he replied. “I was in the shuttlebay, and I saw him pretty much break it off with Uhura.”
There was a pause.
“…And you went up to him?” Bones asked, giving him an incredulous look. “Look, Jim, I know you’re not an amateur when it comes to the ladies, but when that sort of thing happens, it’s generally a better idea to go after the girl you’ve been panting over, not the rival who won her.”
This awkward moment seemed to be an opportune time for Jim to eat some fruit. So he did. The little café was nestled amongst several, a group of casual restaurants located near the academy and headquarters to serve the Starfleet personnel who spent all day there. It was bright and airy, and really very lovely. “This is a nice place,” he noted, looking around.
It didn’t work.
“Alright,” Bones said, planting both his hands on the table with a ‘clap’. “Out with it. What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on!” Jim insisted.
“Something’s going on,” his friend shot back. “Or else you wouldn’t be so twitchy.”
Was he being twitchy? Jim noticed the way his leg was jiggling, and immediately stopped it. He frowned. Then he sighed. Then he folded his arms against the table, and lowered his head with a dull ‘thunk’. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he groaned.
Bones sighed. “Dammit, what’d you jump into this time?” he asked.
Jim took a moment. Then he peered back up at Bones, seeing written clearly across his expressive face the picture of exasperation, and fondness, and concern.
“Have you ever thought Spock was kind of… attractive?” he asked, before he could rethink it and stop himself.
Fond, exasperated concern was gradually replaced by a vague look of horror.
“Jesus, Jim,” he said. “I don’t think there’s enough whiskey on Earth. Hell, there’s probably not enough alcohol in the whole damn Alpha Quadrant for that.”
Jim lowered his head back onto the table. “That sucks,” he said. “I was hoping it might be universal or something.”
Bones gave him an odd look. “You were hoping that finding Spock attractive was universal?” he asked, in a tone which very much implied that he’d just tasted something awful. Jim just gave a weird little half-nod, half-shrug. “Should I go out on a limb here and assume this means that you find Spock attractive?”
“I’m screwed,” Jim replied, finally looking up again. “I can’t take it, Bones. I mean, I find out that I really like the guy – we actually get along, and he is awesome – and my sex drive has to ruin it!”
There was a long pause.
“…What in the hell are you talking about?” Bones demanded, giving him the patented ‘dammit, I don’t speak crazy, Jim’ look of his. “And please don’t tell me you slept with him. Or if you did, for the love of god, don’t give me any damn details. My nightmares don’t need the help.”
Jim frowned. “Of course I didn’t sleep with him!” he protested. “I’m not stupid. If I sleep with him, I’ll lose him.”
There was another long pause.
Bones planted his face into his palm.
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” he muttered. “Good lord, Jim, you are so addle-brained sometimes it’s not even funny.”
Jim bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded, straightening a bit and scowling in annoyance. He wasn’t addle-brained. This was a completely, understandably disastrous situation.
Bones’ look of fond exasperation was back.
“Spock, Jim?” he asked. “What the hell do you even – on second thought, don’t answer that. I don’t wanna know,” he decided. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “You sure can pick ‘em, can’t you? Is it that whole green thing again?”
“No. And I don’t have a ‘green’ thing – don’t bring that up,” Jim replied. Surely it wasn’t that difficult to see? So yeah, okay, Spock fell a little outside of his usual tastes, but he was an adventurous guy. It shouldn’t have seemed that weird.
Bones took pity on him. “So, as little as I can understand it, you like him?” he asked.
Jim nodded.
“And you’re – god, Jim, Spock? – I mean, you’re attracted to him?”
With considerably more misery, Jim nodded again.
Bones sighed and leaned back into his seat. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said. “Welcome to the grown-ups club.”
His comment earned him a confusedly offended look. “…What?” Jim asked.
He wasn’t expecting to get laughed at. But it seemed that his ability to predict the circumstances of his life had been shot to hell recently. Bones just started chuckling at him.
“Ah, Jim, only you would think it was weird to get along with a person you were attracted to,” he mused. “D’you know there are folks in this world who, god forbid, only feel attracted to people they get along with?” This was said with a trifle amount of bitterness on the doctor’s part.
Jim glared. “I know that,” he defended. “…Intellectually. But that’s not me.”
Bones rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well. That’s because your emotional growth stunted when you were about fifteen.”
Jim glared some more. It didn’t seem to have much effect.
That was how their server found them, with one warring between looking supremely amused and incredibly disbelieving, and the other trying to burn a hole through his skull with his eyes. Neither one of them looked up at her.
Turning, she decided to give them a few more minutes and then come back.
“Listen, Jim,” Bones said at length, finally getting over his intermittent chuckles. “I’m not gonna say it isn’t weird. Personally, I thought Uhura was nuts, too. What you see in him, I don’t know, and I’m more than pleased to keep it that way. But this is the first time I’ve ever seen you actually torn up over something like this.”
Jim sank a bit, losing his glare as he regained his awkward, somewhat miserable expression. “It’s a disaster, Bones,” he agreed.
His friend’s gaze softened somewhat. “Oh, damn, Jim. Quit acting like this is such a bad thing,” he advised. At that, Jim’s expression turned to one of genuine confusion.
“Isn’t it?” he asked.
Bones’ gaze softened yet more. “Well, I can’t speak to your taste,” he admitted. “But then I never could. If you’re this caught up about him, though – well, hell, people go looking for that all the time. So quit panicking.”
“…People go looking to develop a physical attraction for their friends and first officers?” Jim asked skeptically. He honestly couldn’t see what Bones was driving at. Didn’t he get it? Being attracted to Spock was very bad news. It presented him with the awful choice of indulging in his body’s desires, and losing a friend, or resisting temptation – which was a lot easier said than done. Not to mention the fact that his more carnal inclinations were very one-sided. Although that did simplify the choice considerably.
Bones gave him a hopeless look. “Alright, Jim, I know you’re a little slow about this, so I’ll spell it out,” he said. “When you enjoy a person’s company, think they’re really fun to spend time with, like their personality and their funny quirks and all a that?”
“…Yeah…”
“And when you also think they’re fine looking, and want to – you know – indulge in pleasures of the flesh with them?”
“…Sure…”
“And you worry about how they are, what they’ll think, and don’t want to lose their companionship… do you know what we call that?”
Jim gave him a blank look.
Bones waited for a minute. But the blank look wasn’t replaced by any sudden epiphanies.
“It’s… oh, hell, I can’t do this,” he concluded instead of answering, looking supremely uncomfortable. “You’ll figure it out. Now where’s the damn waitress?” He turned in his seat, looking for the server. Seeing the movement, she came over, and minutes later had gone off with their orders.
When she’d gone, Bones cleared his throat. “So. Why’re you armed, anyway?” he asked, gesturing towards the phaser which Jim was wearing. The sudden change in topic was a bit jarring, and it took Jim a moment to stir himself out of his own thoughts, and trying to figure out was his friend had been driving at before. He glanced down at the weapon, and then back up.
“Oh, this?” Jim asked, feigning nonchalance. “I just thought it might make me look badass. You think it’s working?”
Bones frowned. “I think it’s illegal, if that’s true,” he replied.
“Hey, I’m a captain now,” Jim protested. “I’m allowed to arm myself, especially when I’m off my ship.” Plus he was fairly certain that his meticulous first officer would have procured all the proper paperwork for his armament. Spock was good like that.
His reply earned him a dry look. “Yeah, right,” Bones said. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but Earth’s a Federation planet. You don’t need to go hauling a phaser around. So what’s it really for?” His blatant curiosity didn’t bode well.
“Impressing girls,” Jim lied without missing a beat. Then he filled his mouth with breakfast, thereby giving himself an excuse to refrain from further comment. He could tell that he wasn’t fooling anyone, and that his evasiveness was bothering Bones, but what else could he say? ‘I’m carrying it around because Spock asked me to shoot him if he went crazy’? He couldn’t explain that without also explaining the Spock-going-crazy part, and the guy was humiliated over that enough as it was. “So, how’s life in Starfleet Medical? Still all boring and shit?” he asked between bites instead.
“Dammit, would you quit calling my work ‘boring’? Just because you don’t have an interest in what it takes to patch people like you back together doesn’t mean I – oh, god damn you, Jim, don’t try and distract me!” Bones suddenly exclaimed, fixing him with a narrow gaze. “You’re not weaseling out of it that easy.”
Bones was right – Jim didn’t weasel his way out of explaining with any ease. But he managed it nonetheless, although towards the end of the breakfast it became less about evasion and more just stubbornly refusing to talk. He could tell that he was wearing his friend’s patience thin, but what else could he do?
Finally, his would-be interrogator gave up. “Alright, fine,” he said. “Keep your damn secrets. But whatever it is you’re up to, can you at least try and keep from giving me a heart-attack when it all blows up in your face? I’m too young for that shit.”
Jim grinned. “Sure,” he said breezily.
It earned him a suspicious look, and then a very reluctant nod.
“Don’t worry, Bones,” Jim couldn’t help but add, feeling a little guilty over causing him even more stress than he was naturally prone to all on his own. “Nothing’s going to come of it.” Then he stood, the meal over now, and clapped his friend on the shoulder. It was peculiar how little charge the action carried, when compared to the few casual gestures he’d exchanged with Spock over the past few days.
“Right. In a pig’s eye,” Bones muttered back, not looking the least bit mollified. Then he sighed and bid Jim take care of himself, clearly thinking it was a largely useless gesture as he did so. With a nod and a wave, Jim took off, glancing back just in time to see his friend mouthing the word ‘Spock?’ to himself with an expression of wry bemusement.
“It’s not that weird!” Jim called back at him, walking backwards for a few steps and narrowly avoiding collision with a table.
Bones’ gaze snapped up to his retreating form, and he scowled. “The hell it isn’t!” he called back, and Jim laughed.
Because, really, what else could he do?
Jim thought about their conversation all the way back to his and Spock’s shared quarters, however. Something about it kept tickling at the back of his brain, as if a part of him had figured something out, but the rest of him just couldn’t seem to see it straight. He found himself shying away from that sensation, and whatever it was carrying – sliding over it like raindrops on plastic. It was as if he had become suddenly aware of the existence of a dark room. It had always been there, just ignored, and now that he knew of it, he was presented with the option of continuing to ignore it, or investigating further.
His explorer’s instincts pressed for investigation. But the rest of him held back, as if it already knew what he’d find, and couldn’t face it yet.
So instead he sat himself down at the computer terminal. He decided to reserve the conversation with good old Spock for when his younger counterpart was around – and no, he wasn’t procrastinating. Just… being efficient. Instead he left Scotty a message, asking if he’d been keeping up to speed on the ship’s progress, and how Scotland was, and then sat back and thought.
For a change of pace, his thoughts weren’t about Spock. They were about Starfleet.
People with authority, Jim knew, tended to dislike him as much as he tended to dislike them. Taking orders had always been a problem for him, even in grade school. He didn’t trust people not to misuse any power they had over him, and so he chafed at supporting the idea that such power even existed. He was talented, and smart, and he knew those things very well – to the point where several of his academy instructors had wanted to wring his neck. Nothing got a person’s blood boiling like an arrogant young asshole who was right all the time.
But, he would admit, actually being in an authority position had forcibly changed his perspective on some things. Take, for example, Chekov. Talented kid. One of the bridge crew’s many gifted prodigies, in fact. But he was only seventeen, and damn, but it showed sometimes. Even though he was technically smarter than a lot of the older officers, he just didn’t have the experience, or – god forbid – maturity to handle a lot of duties. So he still needed to take orders from people whose technical jobs he could do in his sleep. Experience actually did count for something.
Jim was pretty sure that he was smarter than a lot of the Starfleet higher-ups who were looking down their noses at him. But he was still just in his twenties, the youngest captain in Starfleet, and all of his intelligence and creativity and everything that made him want to be master of his own destiny couldn’t change the fact that he was new to this. Grudgingly, he could then – in a very small way – admit that there was some sense in keeping a close eye on him.
It was very, very grudgingly. And he’d never say it out loud. Ever. But it was there. The Enterprise was now the Fleet’s Chekov.
But there was a difference between necessary supervision and peering over a guy’s shoulder all the time. Spock seemed to think that he should just let them hound him a little, and keep doing his job, and wait for it all to blow over. Jim’s ego, however, wasn’t going to take it lying down. Either he was a captain who could perform his duties, and should therefore be treated as such, or he wasn’t, in which case they shouldn’t have promoted him. And they couldn’t take back the damn ceremony now, not unless he gave them a good reason to. Which, so far, he hadn’t.
So how did one go about bulldozing through Starfleet administration?
Jim gave a frustrated sigh as the answer came to him.
Damn.
He’d have to brush up on regulations. Because there were really only two options - he could either flatly refuse to complete more than the bare minimum of paperwork, which could be grounds for an investigation and even more scrutiny of himself, or he could do what he was good at. Which was figuring out how to turn their own game against them. But, as Spock had also said, he was still largely unfamiliar with a lot of the administrative process.
With another sigh, he started calling up the necessary topics at his terminal. At least he had access to the academy’s computer from here – that would make it easier.
The next few hours were passed in the horrible monotony of reading about sub-sections, regulations, ‘proper channels’, and just about anything else which had to do with Starfleet’s enthusiastically convoluted processes. He already knew the essentials, of course. How to file mission and incident reports, paperwork for noting things like field promotions, property losses, ship damages, and all of that. Hell, he could even marry people now, which was a little weird to think about. But what he needed to find out was how much of what they asked him for fell into the normal parameters of a starship’s operations, and how much of it he could send back to them with very polite, reasonable inquiries as to why the additional information was requested.
That was his current plan. He was going to play innocent and annoy the shit out of them, like a little kid who wouldn’t stop asking ‘why?’ every five minutes. He knew from personal experience that it could be a very successful means of getting people to just stop talking altogether.
He didn’t even hear the door to the room slide open at about five to noon.
His fingers did still over the computer panel when a shadow fell gently across his shoulder, however, carrying with it a familiar little tremor of body heat as Spock leaned over and said, very near to his ear: “Fascinating.”
Jim’s stomach gave a wild flutter. His head jerked up – which was a mistake, because then he was looking directly into a pair of curious, glittering black eyes which were oh so very close by him now. They widened marginally, as if realizing their proximity at the same time, and Spock took an immediate step back.
He forced himself to ignore the tiny pang of disappointment he felt.
“You are researching Starfleet’s administrative practices,” Spock noted, not moving terribly far away, but immediately regaining his customary expression.
Jim swallowed.
“Yeah,” he replied, trying to regain his equilibrium. “It seemed like a good idea.”
It really was strangely captivating, that line which ran from the curved tip of Spock’s ears, only to split off into the dip of his neck and the turn of his jaw. Someday, it would not be captivating anymore. As Jim pushed his notice away from that line, he wished someday would hurry up and arrive. But the moment was fortunately brief, and then the next instant, he was simply Spock again – no longer a collection of lines and smooth and dark which drew him in with such frightening ease.
But those things were still there. Part of it. He heaved an internal sigh.
“When we have returned to duty, if you wish, I would be more than willing to offer my aide in such an endeavor,” Spock volunteered.
Jim nodded, swallowing hard. “Thanks,” he said. “That sounds… good.”
Spock inclined his head.
“So, uh,” Jim barreled on. “How were those experiments, or whatever you were doing?” he asked, rising from the desk.
“My observational skills were requested for several botany projects designed to clone Vulcan plants based off of unfortunately degraded samples,” Spock informed him, his tone easy, and more confident than it had been for a while. His eyes smiled at Jim. “I believe I was able to offer useful insight, despite the fact that botany is not a particular field of interest for me.”
They fell into step with one another, not even really discussing where they were going as they left, and Spock talked about things which Jim wouldn’t have ordinarily cared about. At all. But because Spock was talking about them, and clearly interested, he found the conversation far from boring. Of the sciences he only really had interests in physics and mechanics. His first officer’s range of knowledge and understanding, on the other hand, was far more extensive.
Still, even with his obvious talent for scientific comprehension, Jim thought that Spock had been more interested when they were initially exploring his mother’s home city. His curiosity was like Jim’s. He wanted to know not just how things worked, or why they did, but to see where they were different – to find new things. That, Jim thought, was more compelling for him than examining what was already there.
He smiled, unaccountably pleased to have noticed this thing they shared in common. Spock glanced towards him, noticing the shift in expression, and his flow of words momentarily halted.
“What is amusing you?” he asked, gaze fluttering down to Jim’s mouth, and his posture straightening somewhat.
Immediately, Jim forced his unplanned smile to tone itself down a little. “Nothing. Sorry,” he replied. “I was just thinking…” he trailed off, unable to bring himself to finish the sentence and inform Spock that he was grinning like a madman because of, well, Spock.
After a moment, Spock simply nodded. “Very well,” he said. “If you feel able to share them, I would not be adverse to hearing your thoughts.”
The invitation was open, but not pressing. Jim nodded his acknowledgement, and they continued, soon enough re-wrapping themselves up in the blanket of conversation. In the end they didn’t even bother getting a proper lunch, opting instead to walk in the open air, talking. Jim learned more about Vulcan plants than he’d ever cared to know. He found his own contributions to the discussion more minimal this time around, which was something of a mercy for his still-recovering throat.
All in all, it was beautifully peaceful, even if Spock seemed very careful not to stand too close to him again.
---
Author's Note: I love Bones. I keep putting him in wherever I can. Anyway, another slow chapter, but hopefully nobody minds. On the subject of how much longer this story is going to be - I don't honestly know. My outline is pretty basic. It's got the points I want to cover (like 'Jim realizes he's attracted to Spock and flips out' or 'Go to San Francisco') but how long it takes to cover those points varies wildly, and sometimes I fill in extra stuff just because the moods strikes me, or somebody suggests something and my brain goes running off with it. Anyway, thanks to everyone who has and will review! See you guys tomorrow, if all goes well!