Starek wakes to the smell of not his own bed. This is the first sign that something is not quite right. In fact, he doesn't recognise the bed, either. It takes a long minute or six for him to remember he'd come to visit T'Nis's fathers.
It comes back slowly... The allergies, flirting with Selov -- here he groans into the pillow. That was probably completely inappropriate, but the old Vulcan seemed to be keeping up pretty well. Still a tempting thought, though.
And then, he remembers the rest, and sits bolt upright, calling out -- "Spock!"
Spock emerges from the adjacent solarium carrying an actual paper book in his hand. HIs expression softens when he finds Starek sitting upright and looking better for his nap.
"Like I've had six pints of ale, laced with cocoa, and slept them off in a blender." Starek relaxes at the sight of his taluhk-veh. "Of course, this is also an improvement, which says more than I will on the subject."
He rubs his face, scratches his hair, and wipes his cheek off on his shoulder, before smiling up at Spock in rumpled amusement. "What are you reading?"
He seats himself on the bed. "A most interesting historical treatise. Selov has quite a collection. He is an historian and something of a sociologist as well. His speciality is," and Spock gave a pause, "the misfits of Vulcan society, and how various groups have withered or flourished, over the centuries."
He puts up a hand to smooth down the tufts of Starek's hair, but like their owner the refuse to be tamed.
"Would you like something to eat? You have slept through the time of the midday meal, but Tunor informed me that some cold foods have been left out for us."
"Misfits of Vulcan society." Starek looks dryly amused. "Why am I not surprised in the least. Did you see the looks he was giving me?"
He just looks smug, now, happy to be an article of admiration -- a desired sex object. It's a rather fitting look.
With a quick nip at Spock's fingers, as they move away from his hair, Starek gives some thought to food. "Will you breakfast in bed with me, then? Let me feed you fruit, from my fingers, while you spoil me with stories of our hosts?"
Spock looks inordinately happy for the chance to prolong their seclusion. Necessity stole from them the chance for such quiet times, and he has been craving this most of all things. He exits and returns with a collection of such breads, spreads, vegetables and fruit as were waiting for them. This time it is he who offers Starek a glass of water. It is accepted, with a significant look.
"I informed Selov that the rest period has improved you," Spock mentions dryly. "His reply was that he couldn't see how."
Starek's nose twitches in amusement. "Then it's obvious he hasn't seen me at my best, isn't it? You own me, you know. Nash-veh t'du. But, he looks like he'd be fun at parties. Under other circumstances, I'd have a meaningless one-night stand with that."
"You, on the other hand..." Here, he smiles wickedly, setting his glass on a the nightstand, taking the tray and setting it on the bed, near the foot, before dragging Spock down to him. "Twice a day, and three times on Sundays."
In some parts of his mind, it means more than 'I love you'. It's not fleeting and irrational; it's a perfectly logical statement of desire, based firmly in the frame of things he can touch.
He kisses Spock's forehead, and then drags the tray up, to where they can reach it. With a mouthful of melon, he comes to a realisation.
"This is the first time, this week, I've eaten anything that didn't have chocolate in it." He swallows and holds out a slice of pla-savas to Spock.
Spock is not sure what to say to that, so he ignores it. Chocolate has unpleasant associations for him now, and it will be some time before he partakes of it again.
He picks up a fork and tries to spear the piece of fruit, much to Starek's amusement, which only grows when his initial attempts prove unsuccessful. Finally, he manages the trick.
"More than I wanted to. The Federation has been making interesting offers on public channels, as of late." Starek sighs, gnawing at a heel of bread, to occupy his mouth while he thinks. "I know that I have probably ruined your life, at least temporarily."
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know you, at the time. I had a job to do, and it looks like I did it passably well. And for all that, I'm about as far up her shitlist as your father." He pulls his knees up, leaning between them to grab some more melon. "I know better than to take jobs where my face ends up on subspace. It'll be months before we can do any real work."
"And you..." He sighs again. "There's nothing I can say to make this right. But, here you are, eating breakfast from my hand. I don't deserve this, but I'm not going to object."
Starek takes a bite from the bit of melon in his hand and holds the remainder out to Spock.
Spock accepts the melon, but sets it down. Instead, he takes one of Starek's hands in each of his, heedless of the juices.
"Yeht-veh, we have been far apart of late. Your apologies," and he shakes his head, "only increase the distance."
Carefully, Spock orders his mind and then projects, so that Starek can easily see how Spock attaches blame not to the Romulan, but to himself. How declarations of unworthiness from Starek actually pain Spock because this is where the responsibility truly lies. But with that admission, the barrier bursts and Spock jerks back his hands.
"Had I beamed back immediately, I could have faced her. I could have prevented all of this. But I was selfish. I wanted to be with you."
He withdraws into himself, teeth clenched and eyes shut tight. "I rejected the teachings of Surak. I put my own needs before those of the many, and this is what I reap."
"The needs of the many? Ri'tar-tor duh-vel. You put your desires before your survival instincts. In this, it is all about you and me. There is no 'many' to put first. My good sense was hampered, and so was yours. I got us into this, and you didn't get us out of it. It falls on us both -- possibly moreso on me, for not going back down with one of Stavret's EMP cannons, and taking the whole system out." Starek leans forward, over the platter of fruit, resting his forehead against Spock's.
"This is not about faith. This is not about philosophy. This is about desire, will, and survival."
"We approached this, initially with a flawed methodology. The flaws have led to complications. In what part of the galaxy is 'my life is complicated, to begin with' news?" He moves, slightly, pressing his lips against Spock's forehead. "This cannot be about blame. This needs to be about getting the goods and reasserting stability. In this case, I consider you to be the goods. Don't take that wrong, it's just where you fit into the pattern from my angle
"Of course there are many. My father, my people. Starfleet. The Federation. And yet again, I cannot help but be selfish. It is your forgiveness that I truly long for."
He pulls back to search the other's face. "Do forgive me? For running to your ship as well as from it?"
"I haven't died of it, k'diwa, though Merendith tells me I'm trying. I forgive you. I would have forgiven you, if I never saw your face again. It was a worthwhile experience."
Starek takes a deep breath, and his stomach makes a disgruntled sound. He ignores it.
"There are many who do not matter, in context. It is by no means their dah-bath'pa-yehat tek'ik. It is my business and yours. Kuv shitau el'ru t'du vi'bish t'krusitau - bolau gish du nam-tor rakusal."
He retrieves the melon with his fingers and finishes it while eyeing Starek meaningfully over the top. It is very odd, this eating with the fingers, but not unpleasant.
"On a related note, Tunor has asked me to inform you that he may able to be of service to you and your crew during this time. It is most fortunate that he is an aerospace engineer."
"My ship is a matter for another discussion, I think. I'm not awake enough to consider it at this time, and I am not certain that Stavret and D'nila will be too fond of having someone else in our systems, during the current circumstances." Starek uncoils, then, stripping off the coat he'd fallen asleep in, and tossing it over the footboard, as he stretches out, on his side.
"Your lack of regret is much more relevant to the moment." With a hum of satisfaction, he slips a slice of yon-savas into his mouth, and licks the juice from his fingers, obscenely. Delicately lifting another slice, he offers it to Spock.
It comes back slowly... The allergies, flirting with Selov -- here he groans into the pillow. That was probably completely inappropriate, but the old Vulcan seemed to be keeping up pretty well. Still a tempting thought, though.
And then, he remembers the rest, and sits bolt upright, calling out -- "Spock!"
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"I am here. How are you feeling?"
Reply
He rubs his face, scratches his hair, and wipes his cheek off on his shoulder, before smiling up at Spock in rumpled amusement. "What are you reading?"
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He puts up a hand to smooth down the tufts of Starek's hair, but like their owner the refuse to be tamed.
"Would you like something to eat? You have slept through the time of the midday meal, but Tunor informed me that some cold foods have been left out for us."
Reply
He just looks smug, now, happy to be an article of admiration -- a desired sex object. It's a rather fitting look.
With a quick nip at Spock's fingers, as they move away from his hair, Starek gives some thought to food. "Will you breakfast in bed with me, then? Let me feed you fruit, from my fingers, while you spoil me with stories of our hosts?"
Reply
"I informed Selov that the rest period has improved you," Spock mentions dryly. "His reply was that he couldn't see how."
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"You, on the other hand..." Here, he smiles wickedly, setting his glass on a the nightstand, taking the tray and setting it on the bed, near the foot, before dragging Spock down to him. "Twice a day, and three times on Sundays."
In some parts of his mind, it means more than 'I love you'. It's not fleeting and irrational; it's a perfectly logical statement of desire, based firmly in the frame of things he can touch.
He kisses Spock's forehead, and then drags the tray up, to where they can reach it. With a mouthful of melon, he comes to a realisation.
"This is the first time, this week, I've eaten anything that didn't have chocolate in it." He swallows and holds out a slice of pla-savas to Spock.
Reply
He picks up a fork and tries to spear the piece of fruit, much to Starek's amusement, which only grows when his initial attempts prove unsuccessful. Finally, he manages the trick.
"How much news have you seen this week?"
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"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know you, at the time. I had a job to do, and it looks like I did it passably well. And for all that, I'm about as far up her shitlist as your father." He pulls his knees up, leaning between them to grab some more melon. "I know better than to take jobs where my face ends up on subspace. It'll be months before we can do any real work."
"And you..." He sighs again. "There's nothing I can say to make this right. But, here you are, eating breakfast from my hand. I don't deserve this, but I'm not going to object."
Starek takes a bite from the bit of melon in his hand and holds the remainder out to Spock.
Reply
"Yeht-veh, we have been far apart of late. Your apologies," and he shakes his head, "only increase the distance."
Carefully, Spock orders his mind and then projects, so that Starek can easily see how Spock attaches blame not to the Romulan, but to himself. How declarations of unworthiness from Starek actually pain Spock because this is where the responsibility truly lies. But with that admission, the barrier bursts and Spock jerks back his hands.
"Had I beamed back immediately, I could have faced her. I could have prevented all of this. But I was selfish. I wanted to be with you."
He withdraws into himself, teeth clenched and eyes shut tight. "I rejected the teachings of Surak. I put my own needs before those of the many, and this is what I reap."
Reply
"This is not about faith. This is not about philosophy. This is about desire, will, and survival."
"We approached this, initially with a flawed methodology. The flaws have led to complications. In what part of the galaxy is 'my life is complicated, to begin with' news?" He moves, slightly, pressing his lips against Spock's forehead. "This cannot be about blame. This needs to be about getting the goods and reasserting stability. In this case, I consider you to be the goods. Don't take that wrong, it's just where you fit into the pattern from my angle
Reply
"Of course there are many. My father, my people. Starfleet. The Federation. And yet again, I cannot help but be selfish. It is your forgiveness that I truly long for."
He pulls back to search the other's face. "Do forgive me? For running to your ship as well as from it?"
Reply
Starek takes a deep breath, and his stomach makes a disgruntled sound. He ignores it.
"There are many who do not matter, in context. It is by no means their dah-bath'pa-yehat tek'ik. It is my business and yours. Kuv shitau el'ru t'du vi'bish t'krusitau - bolau gish du nam-tor rakusal."
Reply
He retrieves the melon with his fingers and finishes it while eyeing Starek meaningfully over the top. It is very odd, this eating with the fingers, but not unpleasant.
"On a related note, Tunor has asked me to inform you that he may able to be of service to you and your crew during this time. It is most fortunate that he is an aerospace engineer."
Reply
"Your lack of regret is much more relevant to the moment." With a hum of satisfaction, he slips a slice of yon-savas into his mouth, and licks the juice from his fingers, obscenely. Delicately lifting another slice, he offers it to Spock.
Reply
"I had thought that, now that you are rested, we might profit from a discussion of . . . future actions."
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