Fic: Save Me, San Francisco
Title: Save Me, San Francisco
Rating: R. Oh god.
Pairing: Kirk/Spock, also Scotty/booze
Wordcount: ~2500 words
Summary: Silly domestic 21st-century AU fluff where Jim Kirk et al live in San Francisco. Jim gets to experience a San Francisco tradition for the first time. Hilarity ensues. Also a lot of drinking.
Notes: Oh god, I have no excuse for this, except that lama_mama's art is amazing and hilarious. If you have not seen it, GO. Here and here.
I also posted a snippet here in the same 'verse, and then Lama went and illustrated that silliness here.
The sad thing is I totally want to write more in this 'verse. Sigh. Also, this is totally unbeta'd.
"So," Hikaru says, leaning forward to shark a piece of Jim's Dynamite roll, "what are you guys doing for Bay to Breakers?"
"Bay to Breakers?" Jim repeats, looking from Hikaru to Nyota to Spock and back again. Nyota raises her teacup to her lips, eyebrows rising towards her hairline. Today, her hair is piled on top of her head in an intricate bun, which is impressive both because considering how much hair the woman has and because Jim knows she's had exactly 4 hours of sleep (he found her still passed out on the couch this morning at 8 am). It's 11 am on a Sunday morning after a Saturday night spent bar-hopping (and, in Nyota and Jim's cases, drunken dancing) in the Marina, and predictably, both Spock and Nyota look as well-rested and put-together as if they'd just finished a weeklong retreat at Big Sur. At least Pav and Hikaru and Bones all look as hungover as Jim feels. In retrospect, they probably shouldn't have agreed to a sushi brunch the morning after, but then none of them had expected to get quite as drunk as they had.
"Oh! You haven't done Bay to Breakers before, have you?" Pavel sounds utterly delighted, and Jim suspects it isn't just because he has enough sushi in front of him to bankrupt a small island nation. He clacks his chopsticks together several times in apparent glee, reminding Jim rather forcefully of a praying mantis rubbing its forelimbs together. The comparison is sort of apt, considering what a fucking skinny hipster Pav is, but you'd never know it from the way the kid eats. Jim wonders idly if Pavel doesn't have a second stomach hidden somewhere in the folds of the massive fringed scarf he's wearing.
"Affirmative - Jim only moved to San Francisco this past November," Spock says. "Bay to Breakers is an annual footrace that spans the length of the city from east to west, beginning at the Embarcadero and finishing at Ocean Beach, hence the name 'Bay' to 'Breakers.' It is the longest consecutively run footrace in existence, having begun five years after the 1906 quake as an attempt to raise the spirits of the cities' population, and-"
"Yeah, yeah," Hikaru interrupts. He reaches over for the decanter of sake, pouring another cup for himself and Bones. "But we're not actually going to run it. I mean, I guess you could get up at ass o'clock in the morning and drag yourself down to the Embarcadero, or you could meet us at Scotty's place at Alamo Square, start drinking, and walk behind the runners with us at a more reasonable hour. You know. Whichever."
"I'm running it," Nyota announces, and is greeted with a collective rolling of eyes from Pavel, Hikaru, and Bones that Jim can practically hear. Nyota just laughs, leaving Spock as the only one actually looking wounded at the reaction of the rest of the group (though truthfully only Jim is capable of extrapolating "wounded" from "infinitesimal shift in eyebrow position;" anyone else would probably think Spock is just constipated).
"God, of course you are, Nyota." Bones heaves a long-suffering sigh and takes a drink of his sake, slouching further down against the wooden bench. "Makin' the rest of us look like drunk underachievers."
"You mean you aren't? Are you sure?"
"Anyway," Jim cuts in, smiling slightly at Bones' huff of indignation, "tell me more about Bay to Breakers." Jim feels Spock shift next to him, and hides a smile. Spock is always so uncomfortable when his and Jim's best friends argue, even though Jim knows Nyota and Bones don't really mean it. It's kinda cute, actually. Spock turns a rather adorable shade of crimson when he's embarrassed, right up to the tips of those fascinating Vulcan ears.
(Spock's ears are a minor source of contention between Jim and Spock. Jim, who loves his boyfriend's unusual ethnic heritage ("Vulcan is like being Jewish, only with pointy ears and no sense of humor!"), can't get enough of touching them, which wouldn't be an issue save for the fact that they're apparently a huge erogenous zone for Spock. Jim has wondered aloud whether all Vulcans are like this, or if it's just Spock, and decided to keep his trap shut when Spock pointed out that the only person immediately available to ask would be Sarek, or Amanda. And as much as Jim likes Spock's parents, he doesn't feel like asking the Vulcan Ambassador to the United Nations if having his ears licked is a big turn-on.)
Turns out that aside from Nyota, Pavel and Hikaru are the only ones who have actual plans for Bay to Breakers; Bones and Spock had both somehow forgotten about its imminent arrival. Which isn't a surprise, considering their respective occupations keep them to such an unusual schedule-Bones is in his final year of residency as an ER doc at St. Mary's, and Spock is in year 2 of a 4-year post-doctorate research project with a private particle-generator lab in Berkeley. Miraculously, both of them have the 16th off, and it's decided that everyone will be meeting at Scotty's house in Alamo Square at 9 am-even Nyota, though she'll be arriving later, after she's already finished the race once and had a shower.
That's when the conversation turns to what their costumes are going to be, and Jim wonders if he should be worried.
The answer is "yes," of course, but by the time he figures that out it's way, way too late.
* * * * *
Where are you guys?
It's a simple text; in theory it should be just as simple a task to answer it, but it's on the third try of trying to make himself heard over the din around him that Jim gives it up as a lost cause. After all, it's really, really loud where he is-the float Scotty rigged up has speakers easily half Jim's size, and it's blaring "California Love" at the moment, which is sort of a terrible song when you think about it but that doesn't stop Jim from dancing with basically everyone who drifts past him or happens to collide with him in time to the music.
Which-it's not "dancing," either, exactly, so much as ....what was he doing again? Oh, yeah. Trying to tell Nyota where they are.
Shit, he's really fucking drunk, isn't he.
It's at about this point that Jim realizes he's been trying to answer a text message via yelling at his phone, and he decides that maybe he better put the Blackberry away before he loses it altogether. He sidles back through the crowd, pushing past two Na'vi, a half-naked cheerleader with Pippi Longstocking hair, and the eighth Waldo he's seen in just the past hour-why the fuck they're so popular, he'll never guess. Maybe it's a Bay Area thing. It takes some doing, but he finally manages to scramble back up on the float, careening into Bones and nearly sending him toppling over the side back into the sea of people.
The float is Scotty's doing, by the way, and is a feat of pure genius, running under its own power instead of having to be hauled by increasingly drunk human lackeys. It's tricked out like an ancient Norse longboat, complete with freaky-deeky battering ram at the helm, and the crew members of the good ship Enterprise are dressed appropriately-or were back when they joined up at the Embarcadero, anyway. Hikaru lost his Viking Hat somewhere back near Fillmore, and right now is trying to convince Pav to-shit, are they making out?
They are seriously making out. Pav is gonna regret that in the morning, Jim thinks. Along with a lot of other things. Jim will regret nothing, because that is how he rolls, and also because he thinks the Odin-sized hangover he's going to have tomorrow will be absolutely worth the sight of Pavel Andreavich Chekov hanging off the front of their fucking float, clad in skinny jeans, a horned Viking Helmet, and enough warpaint to scare a teamful of college football players into hiding, screaming "VALHALLA!" at the top of his lungs. Jim is making posters of that shit.
"Jim!" Gaila squeals, bouncing over to him. Literally, bouncing-it's a damn wonder that she hasn't fallen out of that outfit she's wearing, specifically the rag that is passing for a bra. Princess Leia would be jealous of this outfit, in Jim's opinion.
"Gaila, baby, you're gonna... Hi." Jim finds himself with an armful of buxom redhead, and nearly gets his eye speared by the point of one of the horns on Gaila's at. "Gaila! I need my eyes, y'know."
"Shut up, you big pansy," she beams, and Jim pushes her away towards Bones, who looks all too delighted at the sudden presence of his girlfriend in his lap, and next thing he knows Jim is the only one on board the float not making out with someone. He squints up towards the head of the float, and sure enough, even Scotty is occupied with making sweet sweet love to his bottle of Maker's Mark.
"Goddammit," Jim says irritably, and sways up the float, peering past their drunken helmsman at the path ahead of them. It occurs to him then that if Scotty's not driving, then no one is, and that's probably going to end badly. He spares a moment to steal Scotty's whiskey away from him for a swallow (prompting an indignant "HEY!" from Scotty before Jim can return the bottle) and then focuses determinedly on not piloting their float into the bushes, or any of the other onlookers. It's pretty easy, seeing as they're going at approximately the speed of Drunk (read: not fast), but Jim is just lucid enough to wonder what they're going to do when they finally have to actually stop.
Hey, at worst he can always just drive the float into the Pacific and see how sea-worthy this vessel actually is.
"Punch it," Jim says to himself, and leans out over the helm.
* * * * *
"Oh my god Spock if you don't turn off that light I'm going to barf. All over you."
"You have already done that once," Spock points out mildly, and Jim groans into his pillow.
"M'gonna do it again, then. Ohhhh christ what time is it?"
"Approximately... seven-thirty pm. You have been passed out for roughly three hours. I surmise that you may be hungry." Jim feels the bed sink with Spock's weight next to him, and whimpers, pressing his face more resolutely into the pillow. His mouth tastes (and feels) like the back-end of a camel that's spent all day trekking through the Sahara, his skull clearly lost a fight with a semi-truck, and there is not one square inch of him that does not feel scraped raw by actual sandpaper. Briefly, he contemplates the merits of suffocating himself with his pillow, then decides that would take too much energy. Maybe if he just lays here long enough he'll die anyway.
"Fuck. What day is it?" Spock sighs, and Jim doesn't need to be looking at his boyfriend to know that the Forehead Crease of Disapproval is being leveled at the back of his skull.
"It is still the 16th of May, Jim. Dare I inquire how much you had to drink?"
"Yeah, no. Don't ask that. I don't know. Uh. A lot. A metric fuck of a lot."
"How precise," Spock says drily. "Mysteriously, my sympathy seems to have wandered away."
"God, don't be mean. You can be high-and-mighty later, but right now I want to die and I just can't deal. Ugggggggh."
"I'm going to go get dinner with Nyota," Spock informs him. "I was waiting to ascertain that you were not going to die of alcohol poisoning in my absence. I would inquire if you wished me to bring you something, but as we are having Thai, I believe I will decline. Curry is notoriously difficult to get out of the sheets, and I have already filled my quota today of cleaning up your vomit."
"Spoooooooock," Jim whines, and is still whining when Spock turns out the light and shuts the door behind him. "SPOCK YOU SUCK!"
* * * * *
Jim finds out, later, that Nyota and Spock never did manage to track down the Enterprise and her crew of fearsome Vikings; after the third unanswered text, they'd given up and gone to watch the rest of the racers (and "racers") finish out the day. Jim had improved on this phenomenal behavior by calling Spock repeatedly, actually getting Spock on the phone, then telling Spock to shut the hell up because Jim was leaving him a voicemail. Predictably, Spock was less than impressed. Part of Jim wants to be angry with Spock for declining to join the drunken carousing, but he'd always known the chances of getting Spock to get drunk with him were about as good as convincing Ann Coulter to take up competitive lesbian mud-wrestling.
What he wasn't expecting is exactly how annoyed Spock is with him. Jim knows he's in the doghouse when Spock finds reasons to spend the next 3 nights running out of their shared apartment, leaving Jim to find solace with Socks, their black tabby. (Socks' full name is Leibniz Tribble I-Chaya Spock Jr. Aristotle Midnight S'chn T'gai-Kirk, because Spock is a bitch who believes in long names and Jim couldn't just let him have his way without a fight, but it's easier to just call her Socks. Especially since she likes to steal Jim's socks.)
(The yellow ones are her favorite.)
It's Nyota who finally takes pity on Jim, coming over to find him slumped despondently on the couch, watching reruns of "Kitchen Confidential" with a glazed look in his eyes. She sits him down and tells him in no uncertain terms that Spock is a delicate flower who needs to be coaxed into forgiving Jim's drunken Midwestern fratboy shenanigans-okay, what she actually says is that Spock is hurt and was worried about Jim for awhile there, which Jim sort of guessed, but god damn.
Her advice is sound, though. Jim plies Spock with tickets to the Academy of Sciences followed by dinner and an evening at the symphony, and if how hard Spock fucks him that night is anything to go by, he's forgiven, if only on a provisional basis. Jim lays awake for a little while afterwards, enjoying the return of his personal Vulcan space-heater, and makes a mental note to send Nyota a bottle of really fucking expensive wine.
All in all, he's going to have to call the Bay to Breakers situation a "win" for the Kirk family. Next time, though, he'll make it a policy to not do any shots before 8 am.
Rating: R. Oh god.
Pairing: Kirk/Spock, also Scotty/booze
Wordcount: ~2500 words
Summary: Silly domestic 21st-century AU fluff where Jim Kirk et al live in San Francisco. Jim gets to experience a San Francisco tradition for the first time. Hilarity ensues. Also a lot of drinking.
Notes: Oh god, I have no excuse for this, except that lama_mama's art is amazing and hilarious. If you have not seen it, GO. Here and here.
I also posted a snippet here in the same 'verse, and then Lama went and illustrated that silliness here.
The sad thing is I totally want to write more in this 'verse. Sigh. Also, this is totally unbeta'd.
"So," Hikaru says, leaning forward to shark a piece of Jim's Dynamite roll, "what are you guys doing for Bay to Breakers?"
"Bay to Breakers?" Jim repeats, looking from Hikaru to Nyota to Spock and back again. Nyota raises her teacup to her lips, eyebrows rising towards her hairline. Today, her hair is piled on top of her head in an intricate bun, which is impressive both because considering how much hair the woman has and because Jim knows she's had exactly 4 hours of sleep (he found her still passed out on the couch this morning at 8 am). It's 11 am on a Sunday morning after a Saturday night spent bar-hopping (and, in Nyota and Jim's cases, drunken dancing) in the Marina, and predictably, both Spock and Nyota look as well-rested and put-together as if they'd just finished a weeklong retreat at Big Sur. At least Pav and Hikaru and Bones all look as hungover as Jim feels. In retrospect, they probably shouldn't have agreed to a sushi brunch the morning after, but then none of them had expected to get quite as drunk as they had.
"Oh! You haven't done Bay to Breakers before, have you?" Pavel sounds utterly delighted, and Jim suspects it isn't just because he has enough sushi in front of him to bankrupt a small island nation. He clacks his chopsticks together several times in apparent glee, reminding Jim rather forcefully of a praying mantis rubbing its forelimbs together. The comparison is sort of apt, considering what a fucking skinny hipster Pav is, but you'd never know it from the way the kid eats. Jim wonders idly if Pavel doesn't have a second stomach hidden somewhere in the folds of the massive fringed scarf he's wearing.
"Affirmative - Jim only moved to San Francisco this past November," Spock says. "Bay to Breakers is an annual footrace that spans the length of the city from east to west, beginning at the Embarcadero and finishing at Ocean Beach, hence the name 'Bay' to 'Breakers.' It is the longest consecutively run footrace in existence, having begun five years after the 1906 quake as an attempt to raise the spirits of the cities' population, and-"
"Yeah, yeah," Hikaru interrupts. He reaches over for the decanter of sake, pouring another cup for himself and Bones. "But we're not actually going to run it. I mean, I guess you could get up at ass o'clock in the morning and drag yourself down to the Embarcadero, or you could meet us at Scotty's place at Alamo Square, start drinking, and walk behind the runners with us at a more reasonable hour. You know. Whichever."
"I'm running it," Nyota announces, and is greeted with a collective rolling of eyes from Pavel, Hikaru, and Bones that Jim can practically hear. Nyota just laughs, leaving Spock as the only one actually looking wounded at the reaction of the rest of the group (though truthfully only Jim is capable of extrapolating "wounded" from "infinitesimal shift in eyebrow position;" anyone else would probably think Spock is just constipated).
"God, of course you are, Nyota." Bones heaves a long-suffering sigh and takes a drink of his sake, slouching further down against the wooden bench. "Makin' the rest of us look like drunk underachievers."
"You mean you aren't? Are you sure?"
"Anyway," Jim cuts in, smiling slightly at Bones' huff of indignation, "tell me more about Bay to Breakers." Jim feels Spock shift next to him, and hides a smile. Spock is always so uncomfortable when his and Jim's best friends argue, even though Jim knows Nyota and Bones don't really mean it. It's kinda cute, actually. Spock turns a rather adorable shade of crimson when he's embarrassed, right up to the tips of those fascinating Vulcan ears.
(Spock's ears are a minor source of contention between Jim and Spock. Jim, who loves his boyfriend's unusual ethnic heritage ("Vulcan is like being Jewish, only with pointy ears and no sense of humor!"), can't get enough of touching them, which wouldn't be an issue save for the fact that they're apparently a huge erogenous zone for Spock. Jim has wondered aloud whether all Vulcans are like this, or if it's just Spock, and decided to keep his trap shut when Spock pointed out that the only person immediately available to ask would be Sarek, or Amanda. And as much as Jim likes Spock's parents, he doesn't feel like asking the Vulcan Ambassador to the United Nations if having his ears licked is a big turn-on.)
Turns out that aside from Nyota, Pavel and Hikaru are the only ones who have actual plans for Bay to Breakers; Bones and Spock had both somehow forgotten about its imminent arrival. Which isn't a surprise, considering their respective occupations keep them to such an unusual schedule-Bones is in his final year of residency as an ER doc at St. Mary's, and Spock is in year 2 of a 4-year post-doctorate research project with a private particle-generator lab in Berkeley. Miraculously, both of them have the 16th off, and it's decided that everyone will be meeting at Scotty's house in Alamo Square at 9 am-even Nyota, though she'll be arriving later, after she's already finished the race once and had a shower.
That's when the conversation turns to what their costumes are going to be, and Jim wonders if he should be worried.
The answer is "yes," of course, but by the time he figures that out it's way, way too late.
* * * * *
Where are you guys?
It's a simple text; in theory it should be just as simple a task to answer it, but it's on the third try of trying to make himself heard over the din around him that Jim gives it up as a lost cause. After all, it's really, really loud where he is-the float Scotty rigged up has speakers easily half Jim's size, and it's blaring "California Love" at the moment, which is sort of a terrible song when you think about it but that doesn't stop Jim from dancing with basically everyone who drifts past him or happens to collide with him in time to the music.
Which-it's not "dancing," either, exactly, so much as ....what was he doing again? Oh, yeah. Trying to tell Nyota where they are.
Shit, he's really fucking drunk, isn't he.
It's at about this point that Jim realizes he's been trying to answer a text message via yelling at his phone, and he decides that maybe he better put the Blackberry away before he loses it altogether. He sidles back through the crowd, pushing past two Na'vi, a half-naked cheerleader with Pippi Longstocking hair, and the eighth Waldo he's seen in just the past hour-why the fuck they're so popular, he'll never guess. Maybe it's a Bay Area thing. It takes some doing, but he finally manages to scramble back up on the float, careening into Bones and nearly sending him toppling over the side back into the sea of people.
The float is Scotty's doing, by the way, and is a feat of pure genius, running under its own power instead of having to be hauled by increasingly drunk human lackeys. It's tricked out like an ancient Norse longboat, complete with freaky-deeky battering ram at the helm, and the crew members of the good ship Enterprise are dressed appropriately-or were back when they joined up at the Embarcadero, anyway. Hikaru lost his Viking Hat somewhere back near Fillmore, and right now is trying to convince Pav to-shit, are they making out?
They are seriously making out. Pav is gonna regret that in the morning, Jim thinks. Along with a lot of other things. Jim will regret nothing, because that is how he rolls, and also because he thinks the Odin-sized hangover he's going to have tomorrow will be absolutely worth the sight of Pavel Andreavich Chekov hanging off the front of their fucking float, clad in skinny jeans, a horned Viking Helmet, and enough warpaint to scare a teamful of college football players into hiding, screaming "VALHALLA!" at the top of his lungs. Jim is making posters of that shit.
"Jim!" Gaila squeals, bouncing over to him. Literally, bouncing-it's a damn wonder that she hasn't fallen out of that outfit she's wearing, specifically the rag that is passing for a bra. Princess Leia would be jealous of this outfit, in Jim's opinion.
"Gaila, baby, you're gonna... Hi." Jim finds himself with an armful of buxom redhead, and nearly gets his eye speared by the point of one of the horns on Gaila's at. "Gaila! I need my eyes, y'know."
"Shut up, you big pansy," she beams, and Jim pushes her away towards Bones, who looks all too delighted at the sudden presence of his girlfriend in his lap, and next thing he knows Jim is the only one on board the float not making out with someone. He squints up towards the head of the float, and sure enough, even Scotty is occupied with making sweet sweet love to his bottle of Maker's Mark.
"Goddammit," Jim says irritably, and sways up the float, peering past their drunken helmsman at the path ahead of them. It occurs to him then that if Scotty's not driving, then no one is, and that's probably going to end badly. He spares a moment to steal Scotty's whiskey away from him for a swallow (prompting an indignant "HEY!" from Scotty before Jim can return the bottle) and then focuses determinedly on not piloting their float into the bushes, or any of the other onlookers. It's pretty easy, seeing as they're going at approximately the speed of Drunk (read: not fast), but Jim is just lucid enough to wonder what they're going to do when they finally have to actually stop.
Hey, at worst he can always just drive the float into the Pacific and see how sea-worthy this vessel actually is.
"Punch it," Jim says to himself, and leans out over the helm.
* * * * *
"Oh my god Spock if you don't turn off that light I'm going to barf. All over you."
"You have already done that once," Spock points out mildly, and Jim groans into his pillow.
"M'gonna do it again, then. Ohhhh christ what time is it?"
"Approximately... seven-thirty pm. You have been passed out for roughly three hours. I surmise that you may be hungry." Jim feels the bed sink with Spock's weight next to him, and whimpers, pressing his face more resolutely into the pillow. His mouth tastes (and feels) like the back-end of a camel that's spent all day trekking through the Sahara, his skull clearly lost a fight with a semi-truck, and there is not one square inch of him that does not feel scraped raw by actual sandpaper. Briefly, he contemplates the merits of suffocating himself with his pillow, then decides that would take too much energy. Maybe if he just lays here long enough he'll die anyway.
"Fuck. What day is it?" Spock sighs, and Jim doesn't need to be looking at his boyfriend to know that the Forehead Crease of Disapproval is being leveled at the back of his skull.
"It is still the 16th of May, Jim. Dare I inquire how much you had to drink?"
"Yeah, no. Don't ask that. I don't know. Uh. A lot. A metric fuck of a lot."
"How precise," Spock says drily. "Mysteriously, my sympathy seems to have wandered away."
"God, don't be mean. You can be high-and-mighty later, but right now I want to die and I just can't deal. Ugggggggh."
"I'm going to go get dinner with Nyota," Spock informs him. "I was waiting to ascertain that you were not going to die of alcohol poisoning in my absence. I would inquire if you wished me to bring you something, but as we are having Thai, I believe I will decline. Curry is notoriously difficult to get out of the sheets, and I have already filled my quota today of cleaning up your vomit."
"Spoooooooock," Jim whines, and is still whining when Spock turns out the light and shuts the door behind him. "SPOCK YOU SUCK!"
* * * * *
Jim finds out, later, that Nyota and Spock never did manage to track down the Enterprise and her crew of fearsome Vikings; after the third unanswered text, they'd given up and gone to watch the rest of the racers (and "racers") finish out the day. Jim had improved on this phenomenal behavior by calling Spock repeatedly, actually getting Spock on the phone, then telling Spock to shut the hell up because Jim was leaving him a voicemail. Predictably, Spock was less than impressed. Part of Jim wants to be angry with Spock for declining to join the drunken carousing, but he'd always known the chances of getting Spock to get drunk with him were about as good as convincing Ann Coulter to take up competitive lesbian mud-wrestling.
What he wasn't expecting is exactly how annoyed Spock is with him. Jim knows he's in the doghouse when Spock finds reasons to spend the next 3 nights running out of their shared apartment, leaving Jim to find solace with Socks, their black tabby. (Socks' full name is Leibniz Tribble I-Chaya Spock Jr. Aristotle Midnight S'chn T'gai-Kirk, because Spock is a bitch who believes in long names and Jim couldn't just let him have his way without a fight, but it's easier to just call her Socks. Especially since she likes to steal Jim's socks.)
(The yellow ones are her favorite.)
It's Nyota who finally takes pity on Jim, coming over to find him slumped despondently on the couch, watching reruns of "Kitchen Confidential" with a glazed look in his eyes. She sits him down and tells him in no uncertain terms that Spock is a delicate flower who needs to be coaxed into forgiving Jim's drunken Midwestern fratboy shenanigans-okay, what she actually says is that Spock is hurt and was worried about Jim for awhile there, which Jim sort of guessed, but god damn.
Her advice is sound, though. Jim plies Spock with tickets to the Academy of Sciences followed by dinner and an evening at the symphony, and if how hard Spock fucks him that night is anything to go by, he's forgiven, if only on a provisional basis. Jim lays awake for a little while afterwards, enjoying the return of his personal Vulcan space-heater, and makes a mental note to send Nyota a bottle of really fucking expensive wine.
All in all, he's going to have to call the Bay to Breakers situation a "win" for the Kirk family. Next time, though, he'll make it a policy to not do any shots before 8 am.