Fic Post: Mistletoe Miscalculation
Title: Mistletoe Miscalculation
Author: idvo
Series: STXI
Rating: G
Length: 2,616
Warnings: none (perhaps extreme embarrassment)
Summary: After an embarrassing incident involving Spock’s father and some mistletoe, Kirk decides to spend Christmas like he always does: alone. Spock manages to find him, and they wind up spending it together. Written for the 2011 K/S Advent Calendar.
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Mistletoe Miscalculation
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Starbase 7 wasn’t the most modern starbase, and was actually quite small compared to the others. It was mostly used as a repair station for minor malfunctions and a layover point to exchange passengers between ships. The Enterprise had stopped there for the former purpose, in the middle of transporting a group of Vulcan diplomats from New Vulcan to Earth for a conference. The starbase was located at a convenient point between the two planets, so renovations on it were finally underway as Vulcans began to move from their temporary housing on Earth to their new world.
It was Christmas, and many of the members of the crew decided to take the time to celebrate during this brief stop. Some stayed on the ship to privately observe the holiday or join in on the ever-growing pan-holiday party in the main mess hall, while others decided to celebrate on the starbase. Many of the crew members who didn’t celebrate it took this time to get a bit of rest and recreation, a few visiting the starbase for a simple change of scenery.
Jim was there to hide.
The small bar he found himself in was nearly empty, with dim lighting and mellow music. A few Andorians sat around a table in the corner, talking too quietly for Jim to hear the conversation. He glanced at them, idly wondering if they celebrated any holidays this time of year, then tried to calculate exactly what time of year it would be on Andoria. Spock could probably tell him off the top of his head, but the thought of him made Jim duck in embarrassment, as if anyone in the vicinity would immediately know what had happened if they so much as glanced at him.
Spock’s father was among the diplomats on board the Enterprise. Jim hoped the tiny bar would be a good enough place to avoid him for at least a hundred years.
Usually, he’d go to Bones with a problem like this, who would most likely tease him until he felt better, even though he’d act annoyed. The brandy would’ve been free, too. But this? He could just imagine the look on Bones’ face if he told him, shifting between disbelief, horror, and a schadenfreude-induced euphoria before he literally died laughing. Jim didn’t think he could handle that, not this time.
A few days before Christmas Eve he’d come up with a brilliant plan to break the ice with Spock. He’d never really done anything to celebrate the holiday before, but after spending nearly three years on the ship with the guy, he thought he may as well start a tradition of his own. It could go horribly, of course, but if he’d been reading Spock’s signals right, he knew he’d be in for something great.
Sulu grew all matter of plants in the botany lab, and fortunately he had some mistletoe. Jim asked for a few small clippings, and after answering Sulu’s teasing questions as vaguely as he could, Sulu agreed to give him some. As he retrieved them, Sulu leapt into a fifteen minute speech about the plant’s properties, pointedly noting that it was poisonous. Jim already knew that, of course. Sulu was probably only adding the disclaimer to cover his own ass, in case Jim turned out to be allergic to this, too. They’d both learned their lesson after the incident with the weeper plant, and another lecture from Bones was the last thing they needed.
Jim managed to slip out when some ensigns came in to finish up an experiment, and he hurried away with his prize. He’d never seen fresh mistletoe before, and it was less impressive than he’d expected it to be. That should’ve been the first sign that this was a bad idea, but he pressed on, procuring a piece of red ribbon to tie the clippings together.
Jim had sent a message to Spock on Christmas Eve, asking him to meet him in observation lounge three after beta shift. Jim entered the dark room a few minutes after midnight. Only the light from the stars illuminated the figure within. He approached quietly, sure that Spock knew it was him but not wanting to break the serene atmosphere. He wanted to say something, but decided that a direct approach would be best. Jim reached up above both their heads, mistletoe in hand, then quickly leaned in a planted a light kiss on Spock’s cheek.
When the person next to him stiffened and slowly turned to face him, Jim felt like he’d been dunked in ice water. He’d been so caught up in the moment that he’d forgotten to take stock on reality.
“Excuse me, Captain?” Sarek’s voice did nothing to dissipate the chill in the room. His stony face was expressionless, but there was no denying the utter bafflement in his eyes. Jim knew he expected strange things from the man his son spoke so highly of, but he doubted this was one of them.
Jim remained frozen in place for what felt like hours, arm in the air and mistletoe clutched in his hand. “I-I didn’t-I mean-” After babbling for a bit, he finally apologized, throwing something in there about being drunk, and bolted.
He couldn’t get to the starbase fast enough. Sure, he’d embarrassed himself with awkward advances in the past, but he’d always do his best to make it right, so that no one was offended or uncomfortable because of his blunder. But he’d never failed so spectacularly in his entire life. He had no idea how he could fix this.
Alone at the bar, Jim sighed. He’d been sitting here for nearly two hours, nursing the same tumbler of brandy. It was warm and not nearly as strong as he’d like it to be. He didn’t know why he was drinking it in the first place; his stomach could barely handle having nothing in it, let alone this. He heard the Andorians get up and leave, laughing quietly at a joke one of them told.
“Captain?”
Jim nearly dropped his tumbler on the bar. He turned and saw Spock standing behind him, wearing a neutral, yet curious, expression.
“Yeah, Spock?” Jim asked, trying to make his voice sound normal despite his heart being lodged in his throat. He swallowed some brandy, thinking that would help. It didn’t.
“You missed our appointment.” Spock slipped into the seat next to him, waving away the robotic bartender when it came over to take his order. “I was wondering if something happened.”
“Hm?” Jim struggled not to cough up his drink.
“You requested that I meet you in observation lounge four, sir. I waited thirty-seven-point-three minutes before searching for you.”
Jim could’ve smacked himself. Not only did he go to the wrong room, but in a haze of mortification and desperation, where he could only think about escaping, he’d forgotten all about Spock. Some declaration of love this turned out to be.
“I’m sorry Spock,” Jim said, and it was the most sincere apology he’d ever made. “Something came up, and I had to take care of it.” Oh, if you only knew, he thought.
“I understand,” Spock said, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Jim thought he understood exactly what had happened. When Spock calmly surveyed the bar, he relaxed. He wouldn’t look so oblivious if he knew; even Spock couldn’t keep something like that hidden.
“Is this a tradition for you?” Spock asked after a pause.
“Is what?” Jim looked at him.
“Drinking alone on Christmas?”
Jim couldn’t help but laugh, and he was grateful for the chance to distract himself. “Oh, man, you make it sound so depressing.” He rolled the glass between his palms. “But, yeah, I guess it is. Well, not the drinking. The alone part.” Spock didn’t say anything, so he continued. “We never really celebrated Christmas when I was growing up. My mom was usually off-world, and when she was home she’d sometimes take us out to a nice dinner or something. Frank wasn’t the holiday type, and Sam gave up on the whole thing when he took off.”
After a moment, Spock said, “And you?”
“I never thought it was a big deal.” Jim sipped his drink. “I mean, I get the message about being giving and loving and all, but shouldn’t those things be important all the time? It’s weird to pick one day out of the year to do something that you should be doing anyway.” And why pick this particular day to start a new tradition that will probably just backfire? he added to himself.
“I never expected you to hold that particular opinion,” Spock said.
Jim smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
They sat in silence for a while before Spock spoke again. “My mother celebrated Christmas.”
“Yeah?” Jim wondered how such a demonstrative holiday would go over on Vulcan.
“Indeed. She would light candles the night before, and give me and my father gifts the following morning. She once tried to tell me that a rotund human in red was the one who brought the gifts to our home.”
Jim laughed. “Did you believe her?”
“Of course not,” Spock said, sounding almost offended at the suggestion. “It would be impossible for one man to visit every child in the galaxy in a single evening, even taking into account the many different evenings of each planet. Also, my father would never have allowed a stranger to wander our house at night, at least according to him.”
At the mention of Sarek, Jim felt himself flush, but the image of the dignified ambassador forbidding St. Nick from entering his home nearly made him forget the incident. “So did he actually think…?” Jim trailed off.
“He did not believe in the mythical being known as ‘Santa Claus,’ no,” Spock said. “However, many of his visits to Earth coincided with Christmas, and he was familiar with the custom of people dressing and acting like him. He apparently inferred that they worked as late-night delivery men, as well.”
“Oh, wow,” was all Jim managed to get out between fits of laughter.
Spock waited until Jim settled down before continuing. “He always told me that it was an illogical holiday, but that we should celebrate it for my mother’s sake. He started taking me to shop for gifts for her when I was six years of age, claiming it was to further my education on human customs.” He paused. “Now I fully understand why he did it.”
Jim nodded. A part of him still had trouble believing that Vulcans weren’t as emotionless as they claimed, but the past few years proved that their emotions ran deep, perhaps even deeper than humans’. Not that they’d ever admit that.
Jim finally gave up on the brandy and pushed it away. He was feeling slightly better after talking to Spock and knew that he had to return to the Enterprise eventually. He could salvage this night somehow, and even if he didn’t get to tell Spock how he felt, he could at least spend some time with him while they had no other pressing responsibilities.
“What do you say we get out of here?” he asked, standing.
Spock stood as well. “Perhaps you would like to join me for a game of chess?”
“Perhaps.” Jim smiled. “Your place or mine?”
“My quarters will be adequate,” Spock said. Jim nodded in agreement, and they left.
The only person Jim and Spock met on the way to Spock’s quarters was a young ensign working in the transporter room. A skeleton crew was assigned to maintain the shift, and its roster was frequently rotated. Spock volunteered to oversee the skeleton crew, not that anyone minded. Jim secretly thought he enjoyed it, the peace that came over the ship when there wasn’t anyone buzzing around the halls.
They walked in silence, and Jim felt some of the tension leave his shoulders for the first time since the incident. They reached Spock’s quarters and entered. Jim looked around and noticed the candles lining the shelf which once held various scientific trinkets. Some were new, but others were low, nearly exhausted.
“Were any of these your mother’s?” he asked.
“Yes,” Spock answered. He gestured to the largest candle, which nestled among a few smaller ones. “This is the one she lit while we exchanged gifts on Christmas morning. Her grandmother crafted it, and she received it from her when she moved to Vulcan.”
Jim moved closer and examined it. Its diameter was approximately the width of this hand, and it was about as tall as the length of his hand. The candle’s ivory wax had faint patterns of red and green swirling through it. As Spock busied himself with setting up the chess board, Jim stealthily sniffed it. It had a pleasing scent, a mix of vanilla and apples, with just a hint of cinnamon.
“And this one?” Jim asked, motioning to one of the smaller candles.
“I purchased that one for myself,” Spock said. After setting up the game he started lighting the candles. “It has a similar scent to a type of incense I use during meditation.”
Jim watched him for a moment, and then turned his attention back to the largest candle. He was wondered if Spock ever worried about using it up. Jim was about to ask him after he finished lighting it, but before he could Spock kissed him on the cheek.
Jim smiled as Spock pulled away. His smile only grew when he noticed the shy look on Spock’s face. Then he noticed Spock’s eyes flick to a point above their heads, and after following his line of sight, his smile fell. There, fastened to the ceiling above the candles was a small bundle of mistletoe.
“Where did you get that?” Jim asked, hoping for an answer he knew wasn’t coming.
“My father.” Spock looked at his eyes, but Jim couldn’t meet them.
“He told you.” Jim didn’t know what to feel. He was elated that Spock felt the way he did, no doubt about that, but confusion and embarrassment threatened to overpower his more pleasant emotions.
Spock nodded. Jim finally looked at him. “When I was looking for you, I found my father in observation lounge three. He was holding the mistletoe, and when I asked about it, he told me what happened.”
Jim had many things he wanted to say at that precise moment, but he felt that none of them would add much to the conversation.
Spock touched his arm. “He is not upset with you.”
“No?” Jim couldn’t believe it.
Spock shook his head and moved away from the shelf, gently tugging Jim in the direction of the chess board. He sat down, and Jim did the same. “He is… rather perplexed by your actions, but he understood your true intentions and holds no ill will against you.”
“Oh,” Jim said. He absently moved a white pawn forward. He decided the best way to deal with this surreal situation was to just go with it. If Sarek wasn’t completely pissed at him, then maybe they could all move beyond this and pretend it never happened. Well, except for the Spock kissing him part. He’d always remember that. “That’s good.”
“Indeed.” Spock moved one of his pawns. They played in silence for a while, and when Jim (somewhat) accidentally bumped his foot into Spock’s, Spock didn’t move his away. Jim felt the rest of the tension leave his shoulders, and finally relaxed.
“However,” Spock said, breaking the silence, “he does wish to speak with you regarding your intentions, at a later date.”
And a new tension took its place.
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The End
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Author: idvo
Series: STXI
Rating: G
Length: 2,616
Warnings: none (perhaps extreme embarrassment)
Summary: After an embarrassing incident involving Spock’s father and some mistletoe, Kirk decides to spend Christmas like he always does: alone. Spock manages to find him, and they wind up spending it together. Written for the 2011 K/S Advent Calendar.
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Mistletoe Miscalculation
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Starbase 7 wasn’t the most modern starbase, and was actually quite small compared to the others. It was mostly used as a repair station for minor malfunctions and a layover point to exchange passengers between ships. The Enterprise had stopped there for the former purpose, in the middle of transporting a group of Vulcan diplomats from New Vulcan to Earth for a conference. The starbase was located at a convenient point between the two planets, so renovations on it were finally underway as Vulcans began to move from their temporary housing on Earth to their new world.
It was Christmas, and many of the members of the crew decided to take the time to celebrate during this brief stop. Some stayed on the ship to privately observe the holiday or join in on the ever-growing pan-holiday party in the main mess hall, while others decided to celebrate on the starbase. Many of the crew members who didn’t celebrate it took this time to get a bit of rest and recreation, a few visiting the starbase for a simple change of scenery.
Jim was there to hide.
The small bar he found himself in was nearly empty, with dim lighting and mellow music. A few Andorians sat around a table in the corner, talking too quietly for Jim to hear the conversation. He glanced at them, idly wondering if they celebrated any holidays this time of year, then tried to calculate exactly what time of year it would be on Andoria. Spock could probably tell him off the top of his head, but the thought of him made Jim duck in embarrassment, as if anyone in the vicinity would immediately know what had happened if they so much as glanced at him.
Spock’s father was among the diplomats on board the Enterprise. Jim hoped the tiny bar would be a good enough place to avoid him for at least a hundred years.
Usually, he’d go to Bones with a problem like this, who would most likely tease him until he felt better, even though he’d act annoyed. The brandy would’ve been free, too. But this? He could just imagine the look on Bones’ face if he told him, shifting between disbelief, horror, and a schadenfreude-induced euphoria before he literally died laughing. Jim didn’t think he could handle that, not this time.
A few days before Christmas Eve he’d come up with a brilliant plan to break the ice with Spock. He’d never really done anything to celebrate the holiday before, but after spending nearly three years on the ship with the guy, he thought he may as well start a tradition of his own. It could go horribly, of course, but if he’d been reading Spock’s signals right, he knew he’d be in for something great.
Sulu grew all matter of plants in the botany lab, and fortunately he had some mistletoe. Jim asked for a few small clippings, and after answering Sulu’s teasing questions as vaguely as he could, Sulu agreed to give him some. As he retrieved them, Sulu leapt into a fifteen minute speech about the plant’s properties, pointedly noting that it was poisonous. Jim already knew that, of course. Sulu was probably only adding the disclaimer to cover his own ass, in case Jim turned out to be allergic to this, too. They’d both learned their lesson after the incident with the weeper plant, and another lecture from Bones was the last thing they needed.
Jim managed to slip out when some ensigns came in to finish up an experiment, and he hurried away with his prize. He’d never seen fresh mistletoe before, and it was less impressive than he’d expected it to be. That should’ve been the first sign that this was a bad idea, but he pressed on, procuring a piece of red ribbon to tie the clippings together.
Jim had sent a message to Spock on Christmas Eve, asking him to meet him in observation lounge three after beta shift. Jim entered the dark room a few minutes after midnight. Only the light from the stars illuminated the figure within. He approached quietly, sure that Spock knew it was him but not wanting to break the serene atmosphere. He wanted to say something, but decided that a direct approach would be best. Jim reached up above both their heads, mistletoe in hand, then quickly leaned in a planted a light kiss on Spock’s cheek.
When the person next to him stiffened and slowly turned to face him, Jim felt like he’d been dunked in ice water. He’d been so caught up in the moment that he’d forgotten to take stock on reality.
“Excuse me, Captain?” Sarek’s voice did nothing to dissipate the chill in the room. His stony face was expressionless, but there was no denying the utter bafflement in his eyes. Jim knew he expected strange things from the man his son spoke so highly of, but he doubted this was one of them.
Jim remained frozen in place for what felt like hours, arm in the air and mistletoe clutched in his hand. “I-I didn’t-I mean-” After babbling for a bit, he finally apologized, throwing something in there about being drunk, and bolted.
He couldn’t get to the starbase fast enough. Sure, he’d embarrassed himself with awkward advances in the past, but he’d always do his best to make it right, so that no one was offended or uncomfortable because of his blunder. But he’d never failed so spectacularly in his entire life. He had no idea how he could fix this.
Alone at the bar, Jim sighed. He’d been sitting here for nearly two hours, nursing the same tumbler of brandy. It was warm and not nearly as strong as he’d like it to be. He didn’t know why he was drinking it in the first place; his stomach could barely handle having nothing in it, let alone this. He heard the Andorians get up and leave, laughing quietly at a joke one of them told.
“Captain?”
Jim nearly dropped his tumbler on the bar. He turned and saw Spock standing behind him, wearing a neutral, yet curious, expression.
“Yeah, Spock?” Jim asked, trying to make his voice sound normal despite his heart being lodged in his throat. He swallowed some brandy, thinking that would help. It didn’t.
“You missed our appointment.” Spock slipped into the seat next to him, waving away the robotic bartender when it came over to take his order. “I was wondering if something happened.”
“Hm?” Jim struggled not to cough up his drink.
“You requested that I meet you in observation lounge four, sir. I waited thirty-seven-point-three minutes before searching for you.”
Jim could’ve smacked himself. Not only did he go to the wrong room, but in a haze of mortification and desperation, where he could only think about escaping, he’d forgotten all about Spock. Some declaration of love this turned out to be.
“I’m sorry Spock,” Jim said, and it was the most sincere apology he’d ever made. “Something came up, and I had to take care of it.” Oh, if you only knew, he thought.
“I understand,” Spock said, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Jim thought he understood exactly what had happened. When Spock calmly surveyed the bar, he relaxed. He wouldn’t look so oblivious if he knew; even Spock couldn’t keep something like that hidden.
“Is this a tradition for you?” Spock asked after a pause.
“Is what?” Jim looked at him.
“Drinking alone on Christmas?”
Jim couldn’t help but laugh, and he was grateful for the chance to distract himself. “Oh, man, you make it sound so depressing.” He rolled the glass between his palms. “But, yeah, I guess it is. Well, not the drinking. The alone part.” Spock didn’t say anything, so he continued. “We never really celebrated Christmas when I was growing up. My mom was usually off-world, and when she was home she’d sometimes take us out to a nice dinner or something. Frank wasn’t the holiday type, and Sam gave up on the whole thing when he took off.”
After a moment, Spock said, “And you?”
“I never thought it was a big deal.” Jim sipped his drink. “I mean, I get the message about being giving and loving and all, but shouldn’t those things be important all the time? It’s weird to pick one day out of the year to do something that you should be doing anyway.” And why pick this particular day to start a new tradition that will probably just backfire? he added to himself.
“I never expected you to hold that particular opinion,” Spock said.
Jim smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
They sat in silence for a while before Spock spoke again. “My mother celebrated Christmas.”
“Yeah?” Jim wondered how such a demonstrative holiday would go over on Vulcan.
“Indeed. She would light candles the night before, and give me and my father gifts the following morning. She once tried to tell me that a rotund human in red was the one who brought the gifts to our home.”
Jim laughed. “Did you believe her?”
“Of course not,” Spock said, sounding almost offended at the suggestion. “It would be impossible for one man to visit every child in the galaxy in a single evening, even taking into account the many different evenings of each planet. Also, my father would never have allowed a stranger to wander our house at night, at least according to him.”
At the mention of Sarek, Jim felt himself flush, but the image of the dignified ambassador forbidding St. Nick from entering his home nearly made him forget the incident. “So did he actually think…?” Jim trailed off.
“He did not believe in the mythical being known as ‘Santa Claus,’ no,” Spock said. “However, many of his visits to Earth coincided with Christmas, and he was familiar with the custom of people dressing and acting like him. He apparently inferred that they worked as late-night delivery men, as well.”
“Oh, wow,” was all Jim managed to get out between fits of laughter.
Spock waited until Jim settled down before continuing. “He always told me that it was an illogical holiday, but that we should celebrate it for my mother’s sake. He started taking me to shop for gifts for her when I was six years of age, claiming it was to further my education on human customs.” He paused. “Now I fully understand why he did it.”
Jim nodded. A part of him still had trouble believing that Vulcans weren’t as emotionless as they claimed, but the past few years proved that their emotions ran deep, perhaps even deeper than humans’. Not that they’d ever admit that.
Jim finally gave up on the brandy and pushed it away. He was feeling slightly better after talking to Spock and knew that he had to return to the Enterprise eventually. He could salvage this night somehow, and even if he didn’t get to tell Spock how he felt, he could at least spend some time with him while they had no other pressing responsibilities.
“What do you say we get out of here?” he asked, standing.
Spock stood as well. “Perhaps you would like to join me for a game of chess?”
“Perhaps.” Jim smiled. “Your place or mine?”
“My quarters will be adequate,” Spock said. Jim nodded in agreement, and they left.
The only person Jim and Spock met on the way to Spock’s quarters was a young ensign working in the transporter room. A skeleton crew was assigned to maintain the shift, and its roster was frequently rotated. Spock volunteered to oversee the skeleton crew, not that anyone minded. Jim secretly thought he enjoyed it, the peace that came over the ship when there wasn’t anyone buzzing around the halls.
They walked in silence, and Jim felt some of the tension leave his shoulders for the first time since the incident. They reached Spock’s quarters and entered. Jim looked around and noticed the candles lining the shelf which once held various scientific trinkets. Some were new, but others were low, nearly exhausted.
“Were any of these your mother’s?” he asked.
“Yes,” Spock answered. He gestured to the largest candle, which nestled among a few smaller ones. “This is the one she lit while we exchanged gifts on Christmas morning. Her grandmother crafted it, and she received it from her when she moved to Vulcan.”
Jim moved closer and examined it. Its diameter was approximately the width of this hand, and it was about as tall as the length of his hand. The candle’s ivory wax had faint patterns of red and green swirling through it. As Spock busied himself with setting up the chess board, Jim stealthily sniffed it. It had a pleasing scent, a mix of vanilla and apples, with just a hint of cinnamon.
“And this one?” Jim asked, motioning to one of the smaller candles.
“I purchased that one for myself,” Spock said. After setting up the game he started lighting the candles. “It has a similar scent to a type of incense I use during meditation.”
Jim watched him for a moment, and then turned his attention back to the largest candle. He was wondered if Spock ever worried about using it up. Jim was about to ask him after he finished lighting it, but before he could Spock kissed him on the cheek.
Jim smiled as Spock pulled away. His smile only grew when he noticed the shy look on Spock’s face. Then he noticed Spock’s eyes flick to a point above their heads, and after following his line of sight, his smile fell. There, fastened to the ceiling above the candles was a small bundle of mistletoe.
“Where did you get that?” Jim asked, hoping for an answer he knew wasn’t coming.
“My father.” Spock looked at his eyes, but Jim couldn’t meet them.
“He told you.” Jim didn’t know what to feel. He was elated that Spock felt the way he did, no doubt about that, but confusion and embarrassment threatened to overpower his more pleasant emotions.
Spock nodded. Jim finally looked at him. “When I was looking for you, I found my father in observation lounge three. He was holding the mistletoe, and when I asked about it, he told me what happened.”
Jim had many things he wanted to say at that precise moment, but he felt that none of them would add much to the conversation.
Spock touched his arm. “He is not upset with you.”
“No?” Jim couldn’t believe it.
Spock shook his head and moved away from the shelf, gently tugging Jim in the direction of the chess board. He sat down, and Jim did the same. “He is… rather perplexed by your actions, but he understood your true intentions and holds no ill will against you.”
“Oh,” Jim said. He absently moved a white pawn forward. He decided the best way to deal with this surreal situation was to just go with it. If Sarek wasn’t completely pissed at him, then maybe they could all move beyond this and pretend it never happened. Well, except for the Spock kissing him part. He’d always remember that. “That’s good.”
“Indeed.” Spock moved one of his pawns. They played in silence for a while, and when Jim (somewhat) accidentally bumped his foot into Spock’s, Spock didn’t move his away. Jim felt the rest of the tension leave his shoulders, and finally relaxed.
“However,” Spock said, breaking the silence, “he does wish to speak with you regarding your intentions, at a later date.”
And a new tension took its place.
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The End
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