Nothing Lay Between (1/?), Kirk/Spock, PG-13
Title: Nothing Lay Between (1/?)
Authors: salvaged_pride and dancing_mercury
Fandom: Star Trek (XI)
Characters/Pairings: eventual Kirk/Spock, random cameos of the entire bridge crew, mentioned ?/Spock
POV: Spock's, but the chapters will alternate with Kirk's.
Rating: PG-13 for now
Words: 6.289
Summary: Kirk receives a reward for killing the man who massacred the Vulcans. Neither he nor his reward is pleased.
A/N: This was inspired by the epic amazing amazingly epic prompt here on Part Five of st_xi_kink: Spock is a Vulcan concubine/courtesan. Obviously, this is another alternative universe. The changes between Reboot and this will be made apparent as the fic progresses.
All Chapters
Spock cast a wary yet curious eye over the party of humans that had entered the hall sometime before; he stood off to the side, unnoticed. The leader of them, standing in front of the formation and being addressed by the Vulcan Elders, wore a long-sleeved gold shirt with Starfleet stripes that he knew denoted a captain. Behind him, a man that was slightly older, wearing a red shirt; his stripes denoting--a pause for recall--lieutenant commander. A man with a blue shirt and a sour expression, also a lieutenant commander, stood beside the man with a red shirt, though by his shifting stance Spock suspected he wanted to stand right next to the captain. There was another row of three behind them, a woman with dark skin that Spock thought looked rather beautiful, if fierce, in her red dress, a man with pale features, sharp eyes, and dark hair, and a young man, hardly out of boyhood. The last two men both wore gold, like their captain.
He adjusted the collar of his grey-white robes as they talked. Pleasantries that all of them had heard before. Gratitude from Vulcan to James T. Kirk and the Enterprise for all they had done to stop the Romulan who had sought to destroy their entire race, bravery, courage...it was nothing Spock particularly needed to pay attention to. So he took the time to study the humans, especially this James T. Kirk. His arrogance and ego were readily apparent, practically filling the room, as the Elders lavished ceremonial praise on him. Kirk even shared occasional glances with the man in blue and and the man in red.
The Elders were beginning to reach the words that this captain had not heard yet during his ceremonial tour of New Vulcan. Spock smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles from the sleeves of his robes before he turned his eyes back to the lead man in gold, to watch his face.
"...To express the gratitude of ourselves and of all Vulcans upon thee, we present our most honoured thol'es-kafeh," This was the point where Spock knew he was supposed to step forward, and so he did, with all the limitless grace of his station, until he was within six feet of the captain. A bow from the waist that had his back nearly parallel with the floor, his arms still at his sides, and his dark eyes only leaving the man's face for an instance. In the warm stillness of the room, he could hear the woman in the back row utter a small gasp, but he did not glance to see her horrified expression.
Blue eyes focused on Spock a moment later, but there was an obvious confusion written clearly on the human's face. The sour-looking man in the blue shirt looked to the dark-skinned woman, as if trying to figure out why suddenly she had gotten such a look of alarm on her face, all while the older male in red raised an eyebrow and glanced between Spock and the Elders, as if two and two were slowly making four. Kirk studied Spock for a moment, the sense of ego and pride unfading despite his confusion that remained in his eyes. His lips moved, and if studied, he was obviously trying to repeat the Vulcan word that had just been used.
"I am Spock," The half-Vulcan announced, emotionlessly, blandly, fingers lacing together in front of him. "It is a privilege, Captain Kirk, to be able to serve a great man like yourself," The subtle flattery, covered in that same flat tone, sounded almost mocking. "I hope that I will be able to adequately perform any task which you deign to assign me."
That look of confusion only grew as Spock spoke until finally, the captain turned enough to look back at the dark-skinned woman he traveled with. It was impossible to see what Kirk was mouthing, considering the lack of sound. The woman swallowed visibly, then gave a small gesture with her chin. The silence Kirk was giving would be considered insulting. Kirk turned his head back to the Elders, and Spock, and finally spoke, "...Forgive me, but... I am not familiar with that word or...this gift," He shifted slightly in his stance, hands clasped behind his back in an uneasy parade rest.
What an unfortunate universe this was on him, Spock idly thought to himself, as he heard the captain express his ignorance. Of all his training in the fine arts of his profession, and a path that he had artfully crafted for the past several years that would have eventually led him to a comfortable retirement in an expensive penthouse in Shi'Kahr, events have turned his entire life over to the fumbling hands of this too-young captain. He knew the man in gold was too young for his post, as all the other captains of Starfleet he had attended to had been older by at least five years, and more often, ten. Kirk didn't even have the reasoning capabilities to figure out from context what was happening, and if Spock's knowledge of Terran culture was accurate, it would not occur to him unless someone was blunt about the matter.
Out of the corner of his eye, Spock could see the Elders glancing about themselves, as they had not expected the captain's ignorance. As the only one among those present who knew and was willing to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen, he felt he had to speak. If it was going to be rude, he didn't fear any retribution; he was formally out of their hands, and into Kirk's. Spock doubted that the man would have the spine, or the knowledge about his power, to do anything about it. "I believe the closest Terran equivalent of a thol'es-kafeh is a 'concubine' or 'courtesan,'" He was too focused on Kirk's face to notice how the young man in the background widened his eyes and prodded the dark-haired man impatiently in the shoulder, and how the woman gained another shade of horrified on her expression. "However, it is not a direct translation. My skill set is much more expansive and varied."
The expression on the captain's face immediately went from confused to a mixture of horror and disgust for a single moment, then it soothed into something calmer as he most likely attempted not to insult anyone.The dark-haired man near the back just looked to the young man for a moment before looking almost amused, sucking on his lower lip. The older male in the red shirt just had turned away, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. Kirk's voice dropped, speaking more towards Spock alone, "...Your...skill set," Not quite a question, not quite a statement.
"It is where the divergence of the two terms occurs. I may perform tasks not traditionally attributed to a concubine, should you desire it. However, the full extent of my abilities requires lengthy explanation, and would be suitable to another time and place," He had no desire to stand in front of the Elders and express what could be considered pride. He could already feel their collective gaze on his face, waiting for him to slip out of his training and into the behavior of his human blood, despite the fact such a slip had not happened since he was a child.
Kirk let out a slow breath, then turned back to the dark-skinned woman. Finally she let out a sigh and gestured very slightly with her head, "Excuse me a moment," Kirk flashed a grin that looked out of place in the sea of somberness and walked back to her. There was a heated discussion between them, kept so soft that only an occasional word slipped out. The young captain was perhaps not so surprisingly animated when he spoke, forming his words with his hands as humans were want to do. "We can't..." "...honor..." "...with him?!" "...out when we-" "...accept this!" "...no choice!" "...don't like this."
Kirk turned back to the Elders, looked up for a moment as if gathering thoughts, then stepped forward again, "I... thank you for your gift, respected Elders of Vulcan," But his discomfort still showed in his voice despite what he had removed from his face. It was a petty attempt at concealing emotion, one that Spock had been easily able to do by the time he twelve, but here was a twenty-something captain with barely enough control over himself to mask his inner turmoil. This was fortunate; eventually the man would be disposed of due to his lack of diplomatic skills, and since Spock doubted he would be included in any will before that untimely (but ultimately expected) death, he would be back to his residences on the colony within a year.
After his acceptance, the Elders seemed to be more at peace, at least to Spock's trained eye. They continued on, emphasizing what they had said before about gratitude, about how the captain was always welcome at the Vulcan colony, how they hoped he had a successful career, and finally wishing him and his party to live long and prosper complete with the finishing gesture from each of them. Spock knew that, as of now, he was technically a member of the captain's party, and that the salute was directed at him as well. He did not return it.
As they were escorted outside by the attendants, Spock fell into the formation to walk beside the captain. It was a coveted spot, apparently, as the sour man with the blue shirt looked particularly annoyed at him. When the doors finally closed behind them and he did not have to risk earshot of the Elders (even though it didn't matter anymore), his eyes flickered back to the captain's face. There was an odd expression there, something displeased but determined.
"If it is not too troublesome, I have a trunk which I would prefer to keep in my possession," He withheld the information that it was perfectly within Kirk's right to refuse it. Kirk looked to Spock, studying him before nodding.
"Whatever you need, we can have beamed up to the ship," Kirk said in a tight tone. He gestured with his hand and looked back to his crew. "Scotty, let's get everyone back ship-side, and I'll be right along with Spock."
"Aye aye Cap'in," Scotty, the older man in the red shirt, nodded to his captain with only a glance back at the new comer to their party. There was a look shared between captain and the sour-faced man, something unreadable, and then a smile came to Kirk's face.
Kirk turned back to Spock, the smile dying from his lips. "Come on, we'll get your stuff and Scotty'll beam us back up when we're set," Indicating for Spock to lead the way.
Spock gave a single nod before he began to walk down the arched hallways. There were several turns, giving the indication that the building was more complex than what was readily apparent. Finally, they reached a quiet corridor on the far end of the building, which was lit through the gabled ceiling by muted sunlight. Spock opened a plain wooden door with no apparent markings into a room that was equally plain: a bed with white bedsheets, a window that looked over the dry, rocky terrain outside, and a small steel desk with a chair. These were not his quarters as they had been on Vulcan, but the austerity was matched rather closely. Against the wall, a moderately-sized, rectangular trunk that showed the illusion of a red-grain wood, but was probably composed of light-weight aluminum or similar. There were half-hidden casters on each of the corners. Secured and locked via a depressed and shielded number bad on the lid, Spock grabbed the handle on the right side to tip it onto its left, and then gave an unreadable look to Kirk. "This will be all."
The captain moved enough to look out the window, studying the orange-crimson surface outside of it. There was a sheen of sweat along his forehead, humans so unused to the heat of Vulcan. He turned back on his heel, and said bluntly, "...You know I don't want this," Kirk looked to his face, his own expression tight. "...Humans don't do this sort of thing, and I didn't know Vulcans did."
Spock blinked at him and his hand rested on the smooth surface of the trunk at his side. Kirk's approach to the situation was no surprise, but he thought that they would at least get off the planet before he made his displeasure known. He underestimated the man's boldness, even in the face of all he had heard...and that was somewhat disquieting. Was he so unexperienced that he could not read or predict a man who showed his emotions so obviously? "It is not as common as it had once been in the past," Spock informed him, referring to the this Kirk seemed reluctant to actually put specifics on. "But it still serves a purpose for the society," Watching him, as he paused, and continued. "...To come into your possession was not my decision, Captain."
"...Possession," That single word was spoken with a great deal of disgust, none directed at Spock himself. "Let's set one thing straight, right away. Whatever they wanted you to be, you're not. You're not my possession," Those blue eyes met Spock's firmly, as if trying to drill home that point. "If I'm bringing you back up to the ship, you're either my guest or part of my crew. Which would you rather be?" His arms crossed over his chest, stubborness in his expression and tone.
Decisions, freedom of choice--how perfectly human of him. If Spock were not so offset by Kirk's open denial of ancient Vulcan customs, as well as reality in general, he would have thought how representative this man was of his species in general. "I believe that if I were a member of your crew, I would be of greater use to you," And from what he had heard from various clients, being an officer aboard a Federation starship was not difficult (compared to the politics he had to deal with in regular circumstances). "Though I will always be of your possession, whether you acknowledge it or not."
"Maybe to the Vulcans, but everywhere else, no," Kirk seemed to be absolutely refusing that concept. He changed his stance, nodding slightly. "Crew, then. We'll see what we can do," He reached around behind him and pulled out his communicator, flipping it open with a flick of his wrist. "Kirk to Enterprise."
"Aye, sir. Ready ta beam up?"
Kirk walked over to the other side of the chest, putting his hand on it to make sure it would come up with them. "Two to beam up," He closed the communicator, sliding it back into place. "...I'll be damned happy to be out of this heat," Muttered to no one at all, it seemed. Light curled around both of them as a certain sense of weightlessness moved through them, and Vulcan disappeared.
When they both reappeared, along with the chest, they were standing on the transporter pad of the Enterprise. Kirk shook himself off slightly, then looked to Spock. He gestured towards the chest, "Need help with it?" Before even waiting for an answer, he looked back to Scotty, "Call someone ahead to have quarters made up?"
"...Aye, Cap'in," Scotty just gave a sly grin towards the other two men.
Despite the bulk of it, it was not too heavy on Spock's arm. With one hand grasped firmly about the handle, he simply lifted it off the pad to step down to the floor proper, where the casters would do the rest of the work. Then he looked back at the captain. "There are certain procedures before one can be cleared as a crew member on a Starfleet vessel, if I recall correctly," He kept his voice soft, personal; he did not know why Scotty was grinning, and he did not want to encourage it.
"Mmm, once we figure out where to set you in, I'll get to work on it," Kirk said easily enough, walking through the halls. Spock was getting none too few interesting looks as they went towards the residential quarters, though he ignored the looks, as the others' opinions were none of his concern. "So, what type of skills do you have?"
The trunk rolled along by Spock's side as they walked. "I have extensive laboratory experience concerning quantum, relativistic, and temporal physics, physical and organic chemistry, and general xenobiological processes. While not my primary field of concentration, I have also studied linguistics, astrography, and warp core dynamics to tested proficiency," He paused, and then added, as if a side note: "Due to the nature of my profession, interspecies diplomacy may be counted among my abilities as well."
There was now a very surprised look on Kirk's face, a brief look of awe before everything turned into a wide grin, "Well now, not what I was expecting!" He nodded firmly, "Perfect, we'll put you in with the rest of the science geeks down in the labs. The Enterprise has twelve top of the line labs including chemical, bio-medical, and nearly anything else you can imagine," He spoke of the Enterprise like it was his own child he was proud of--a tone which Spock noted for later reference.
Spock also kept silent the comment that he doubted the facilities on board this ship would stretch the limits of his imagination, but he supposed some access to his hobby was better than none at all. Kirk was being remarkably honest on a matter that required none of it. "I look forward to working among them," It was the least provocative thing he could say, and he knew it was in his best interests to prolong the time that the expression was on the captain's face.
Kirk looked forward, thinking. "...We'll have--" He paused, eyeing Spock, then the grin only grew. "We'll have to take you to get a uniform. If you're going to be part of my crew, you're going to look it," He seemed to be amused at the idea.
The slightest inclination of Spock's head as he agreed with him, though he would not have put it quite in that wording himself. "Understandable," Given the captain's previous opinions, it was no surprise that he would not want to proclaim his power over Spock, though Spock doubted a change of clothes would be enough to hide it in the long run.
"We'll get you introduced to the crew..." He closed his eyes, thinking as they walked. A yeoman came up to him, and they spoke briefly. Kirk nodded to her, and they continued, "Your quarters are right up here..." A look over the hallway, and he walked up to a set of doors. They opened with their quiet hiss, and Kirk stepped inside. The quarters were simple, comfortable, regulation. At least, Spock noted, the rooms were bigger than his standard residence.
He wheeled the trunk over to the wall by the bed, gently lowering the trunk until it rested on the ground in its proper orientation. Then he removed the robe from his shoulders, which had covered a shirt whose sleeves came to his elbows and pants of a similar colour. Folding the robe neatly, and setting it across the bed, "Uniforms, Captain? Or introductions first?"
The outfit was eyed, but before Kirk could open his mouth, the doors opened again. It was the sour-faced man from before. He eyed Spock with a dark look, then looked to Kirk, "Jim, if he's going to be staying on the ship, I want him down in sickbay for a physical."
"Couldn't wait ten minutes to get that out, could you?" Kirk said with the easy tone that showed these two must be long time friends.
"It's regulation and you know it," Came the snapped response.
Which was matched by an eyeroll, "Right, right. He would have needed one anyway because starting today, he's joining the science crew," Kirk crossed his arms, smirking just a little. "Spock, meet Doctor Leonard McCoy, my chief medical officer."
Spock looked between the two of them, and the reasons for the earlier jealousy became clear, if no less idiotic. He gave a bow to McCoy, similar to the one had given Kirk when he had first been introduced, with his hands at his sides. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Doctor," If there were other people on the ship for whose happiness he had to be wary of, it was always the medical staff. He had great faith in their abilities, but none in their benevolence.
Probably for the better when it came to this particular doctor. McCoy gave a small grunt, nodding, "And you," He said in that voice with a hint of a drawl.
"Well, would you rather get your uniform first or deal with the physical?" Kirk asked Spock, but McCoy gestured.
"Bring him down to sickbay, and he can change into a new uniform when he's done," The doctor said, crossing his arms. A force to be reckoned with on this ship, it seemed. Such a blatant show of this power made Spock more inwardly cautious of the doctor than before.
However, he still thought his suggestion was sound even if he tried to sort out any malevolence in his intentions. "I agree with the Doctor, Captain. It would be the most efficient use of time, given the course of a routine physical."
The doctor and the captain shared a look, and finally Kirk just shook his head, grinning. "I'll leave you in our doctor's capable hands then while I go and see what we can do about a uniform."
McCoy just eyed Spock, and gestured with his head. "Come on, then. You get to be my first experience in dealing with Vulcan biology. This ought to be entertaining."
"...Just don't break him, Bones," Kirk offered in a tone mixed between amusement and wariness, as if Spock really had something to worry about.
"I won't, I won't," McCoy didn't look back, just started off towards sickbay.
Kirk glanced over his shoulder, "...You'll get used to him. He doesn't mean it."
Spock said nothing to any of these comments, quietly following McCoy to the sickbay. Along the walk, he was more observant of the looks he was getting. He reasoned that it must be a combination of factors that drew their eyes to him, mostly because of his different garments and his Vulcan features. When they entered the medical division of the Enterprise, he would not say that he was impressed, but there were numerous pieces of equipment that drew his eye, either because he did not recognize them, could not gleam their function, or otherwise struck by the newness of it all. His exposure to the medical field had been limited, but its overlap with science was enough than an impression was made. This preview of the ship's facilities bubbled up a strange and minute sense of hope that the actual science labs were just as worthwhile.
At a gesture, he sat on one of the biobeds in the room they had emerged in, empty except for the two of them. Once he came in contact with it, the machine began to make noises of mechanical annoyance. Sensors indicated that his heartbeat was too fast to survive, and likewise with his blood pressure too low, his temperature too high; the oxygen content in his blood was poisonous; sodium levels were fatal...
"OFF!" Came the venomous tone, and McCoy gestured for Spock to get off of the straining biobed. "Damn pointy-earred..." Came the grumble as the doctor moved along side of the bed, pointing a chair. Spock automatically rose from the bed to sit where indicated. The machine calmed down. "These aren't programmed for Vulcans," He ran his fingertips over the console as if soothing a storm-addled animal. "Going to have to do everything the old fashion way... your last visit to a doctor, were you given a clean bill of health?" Those brown eyes were turned on Spock, narrowed.
"Of course," Spock began to undo the buttons of his shirt, starting at the collar and working his way down with steady fingers. He kept his eyes on McCoy. "I must also inform you, Doctor, that I am not fully Vulcan," As much as it pained him at his core to say it. However, the tone was just as even as he partly revealed his lineage; he had practiced this particular sentence many times.
Brows immediately shot up with that. "Then what's the rest of you, if you're not a full blooded Vulcan?" He sat on the edge of the biobed, and it picked up on his own stats immediately, settling them in the green.
Spock finally reached the bottom button of the shirt before he opened its folds. He drew it away from his shoulders that, in some people's eyes, would seem seductive--but this was how he always did, either out of habit or training or both. It was against his very sensibilities to jerk his clothes off, as he had seen some people do in the past. "Human," He began to fold the shirt like he had done the robe.
Well, the doctor's brows had become part of his hairline as he studied Spock. His eyes were slightly wide, but otherwise he seemed much better at hiding his feelings then his captain. "Well." He said simply, then turned away and dug into a container. He pulled out an old bag and grabbed a padd at the same time. He looked over Spock, then grabbed his tricorder. "How much human?" Carefully taking notes as he scanned - heartbeat, blood pressure, temperature - basics.
When he wasn't watching McCoy take notes, Spock watched the movements of the tricorder as it hovered over him. He hoped, even though it had never been a problem in the past, the white-gold metal of the two captive rings on his chest, each closed with something small, round, and jade, would not interfere with the readings. "Half. My mother was fully human, to my knowledge."
"I see..." Muttered in a half-hearted fashion, McCoy's attention obviously on the readings. "Fast heartbeat, higher temperature, surprisingly lower blood pressure..." Murmuring to himself as he wrote in fast short hand. He struck something out at the top of the page and notated, 1/2 Vulcan 1/2 Human Father Mother. "I'm going to need a blood, urine, and semen sample from you." In that inpersonal doctor's tone. Already he was standing up, walking over to pull out a tray, searching for what he would need to get his samples.
"Very well," As McCoy had his back to him, Spock stood from his seat and began to dismantle his remaining garments. First undoing the knot of a thin white strip of cloth that functioned as a belt from his waist, before unhooking various clasps and buttons. He noted to himself that if the Doctor didn't assemble his necessities in a timely fashion, they would both have to deal with troublesome human modesty--and it would not be the first time Spock had experienced a shadow of irritation towards it.
When the doctor turned back around, there was only a moment of obvious surprise that Spock had begun to disrobe himself completely while he was still in the room before the man shrugged as if to himself. He walked across the room and locked the door, then came back. He put aside two specimen cups and gestured for Spock to give him his arm. "This'll be a learning experience for us both at this rate." He muttered, "You'd figure for being one of the four species that started the Federation there would be more medical information but there's little to none. I even brought it up in one of my classes but the teacher changed the subject."
By this time, Spock stood nude, not even a minor flush on his skin that would hint at any embarrassment. For what was there to be embarrassed about: he knew his body, never quite proud of it because pride was something he did not maintain on a regular basis, and this man was a doctor. He held out his arm patiently. "It would be useless for humans and most other species to become aware of the intimate details of Vulcan biology," He informed him, calmly, as if this were a scientific discussion between two colleagues. "A substantial part of healing for Vulcans is comprised of mental processes of which you have no conception, and therefore cannot assist with."
The glare Spock got could melt through metal. He was beginning to think that the doctor's ever-present look of annoyance must have been the man's most endearing quality for the crew. "Look, while you're on this damn ship, I'm your doctor. I'm not about to sit here and get insulted," Despite his obvious anger, the hands that took Spock's arm and nestled the hypo in to draw blood were gentle. "We'll see how much I need to be aware of if you get really hurt and there's nothing I can do because your damned people won't give us anything," McCoy grumbled, drawing the hypo away. "Urine," Nudged a cup, "Semen," The second cup. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes while I run a scan on this blood. Got it?"
He gave a single nod with a calm "Understood," and waited until the doctor left the room. Then, he filled the cups with their respective samples, closing his eyes for a moment to focus on commanding his body before he started on the second. It was quick, he was thinking about wave-particle duality the entire time, and did not even have a blush on his cheeks when McCoy returned fifteen minutes later with cloth folded in his arms and a pair of boots settled on top. Spock sat, very calmly, at the edge of the chair, back straight while his clothes were folded neatly on the seat behind him.
"Is there anything more you require?" He questioned.
McCoy eyed Spock for a moment, putting aside what obviously was a folded uniform, then gesture towards the biobed, "Bed. We'll make this quick. Lay down on your back."
Spock looked from McCoy to the biobed and then rose from his seat to walk over to the equipment he had bothered earlier. However, when he sat down on it, the sensors did not start to make strange whirring and beeping noises as they had before. He moved to lay on his back with graceful movements, until he was staring up at the ceiling and his body was stretched out before the other. The doctor propped up a padd beside the table, facing himself, and went to work. His touch was careful, prodding carefully along Spock's body, brows furrowing. Occassionally he would make a small noise, or write something down on the padd. Each touch was clinical, whether it was along the arms, ribs, or groin. "...prostate cancer..." Came the faint murmur out of no where as McCoy felt carefully, one that briefly made Spock's brows narrow in concern. Finally, McCoy nodded. "As far as I can tell, you're a picture of Vulcan health. Jim's waiting for you, so get dressed," A point towards the pile of uniform, "And come out when you're done," McCoy left him alone again, and there was a faint mutter of conversation out in the next room almost immediately.
Spock strained to hear what was being said in the other room, but the walls and the doors were too thick. He eyed the uniform from afar, until he approached it and took each garment in hand, examining it. The trousers fit nicely with enough give for running or crouching, and he did not see any need to alter the hem of the pant legs. The undershirt was nothing surprising, black and form-fitting, but the overshirt in particular caught his attention, with the delta symbol of Starfleet patterned across the blue fabric. There were no stripes where he had seen them on the officer's uniform. Once he was wearing all of the garments, including the boots that came with the ensemble, he checked himself over, smoothed out any wrinkles, and walked outside to where he had seen McCoy leave. In that room, McCoy and Kirk were talking together about a private subject; as soon as McCoy spotted Spock, he clammed up immediately. Kirk studied Spock for a moment, an odd look on his face, before he just shrugged at McCoy. He smiled in that easy way to Spock, "Come on, let's head down to the science labs... take a tour on the way," Spock was eyed up and down, then Kirk's grin grew, "Uniforms looks good on you. Then again, I'm pretty sure the Federation made it so it looks good on anyone."
No, Spock would not tell him that the purpose of standardized uniforms was to flatter no one and everyone as much as possible. The man was grinning without any active assistance, which made his job easier overall. If it meant staying silent on most comments, Spock would be so. "I am glad that it pleases you," A slight inclination of his head. While he could withhold his more haughty comments, there were other such sayings, like this, that he could not suppress thanks to years of training. Despite Kirk's insistence earlier and this guise of being a regular crew member that he was meant to hold up, Spock was still very much aware of Kirk's title as his proprietor (among other things).
"Good, both of you, out of my sickbay," McCoy snapped, then left through another door.
Kirk just shook his head, "Bones doesn't like healthy people in his sickbay. Can't imagine why. I think because they're harder to chase down with a hypo--"
"I HEARD THAT!" McCoy shouted back. Spock was right, about the man's endearing qualities.
"...Well, that means whatever hypo I get next is going to hurt. Or be fatal," Kirk said in an easy way, but he did scoot out of sickbay in a somewhat dignified way. He led Spock through the ship as they meandered their way down towards the science labs, explaining with a keen eye and surprising knowledge about different aspects of the ship. The Enterprise was always referred to as 'she' or 'her' with familiarity like Kirk was speaking about a family member or lover. It was not something that surprised Spock, but merely affirmed the fact that Kirk was a captain; others had referred to their own ships in the same affectionate terms.
When they did, finally, arrive at the labs, even upon entering the first one Spock had to restrain himself. It was just as he had suspected when he was in the sickbay--and more. More equipment, more chemicals, more--was that a nuclear centrifuge? was that the beginnings of a particle accelerator? was that--experiments being conducted left and right, samples of things on the shelves that he had only seen once in his life and yearned to use again. The proto-excitement, the emerging itch to don the gloves, slap on the goggles, and get to work on research he had been brewing on for years now--it only physically manifested itself in the slightest clench of his fist behind his back. "Fascinating."
"...You have that gleam in your eye," Kirk said out of no where, watching Spock. The half-Vulcan, at this remark, immediately attempted to wipe it from his face, with little success. "The same one every science geek that steps into these labs get, like they want to run in and start right now. Bones got the same thing when he saw the bio-medical labs," He grinned just a bit more, pleased from his tone. He eyed the people in the labs, then gestured, "Russel!" A dark haired older male turned around, goggles around his forehead and a small tan line that showed he usually was wearing them.
"Captain?"
"Come here. I'd like you to meet Spock... new genius we picked up on Vulcan," That easy tone and smile made the white lie smooth as silk.
Russel offered Spock a hand, hesitated, then smirked a little, "Right, Vulcan's don't shake hands. Nice to meet you. Name's Peter Russel," Spock gave him a greeting nod.
"Russel's our current head of the science labs... we're down a chief science officer at the moment. We were in the search for one when the call came from the colony... decided it could wait until we got back," Kirk informed.
Spock surveyed the area they were standing in one more time before he addressed Russel. "These laboratories are remarkably well-equipped," He internally struggled not to say too much more than that, and also to keep the same calm and collected tone. "Are there any procedures to which I may immediately assist?" Kirk was right: Spock wanted to roll up his sleeves and get to work right now.
"My kind of man!" Russel laughed, and gestured, "Come, come... let's see what you know." He winked to the Captain, who just smirked before he waved the two of them off to enjoy themselves. Russel immediately started to pick at Spock's brain as he showed Spock what he was currently working on - a delicate strand of crystal that they were starting to work on as a possible new element for a more effective phaser.
Over his shoulder, Spock glimpsed Kirk leaving with a shake of his head, looking amused.
Chapter Two
Authors: salvaged_pride and dancing_mercury
Fandom: Star Trek (XI)
Characters/Pairings: eventual Kirk/Spock, random cameos of the entire bridge crew, mentioned ?/Spock
POV: Spock's, but the chapters will alternate with Kirk's.
Rating: PG-13 for now
Words: 6.289
Summary: Kirk receives a reward for killing the man who massacred the Vulcans. Neither he nor his reward is pleased.
A/N: This was inspired by the epic amazing amazingly epic prompt here on Part Five of st_xi_kink: Spock is a Vulcan concubine/courtesan. Obviously, this is another alternative universe. The changes between Reboot and this will be made apparent as the fic progresses.
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Spock cast a wary yet curious eye over the party of humans that had entered the hall sometime before; he stood off to the side, unnoticed. The leader of them, standing in front of the formation and being addressed by the Vulcan Elders, wore a long-sleeved gold shirt with Starfleet stripes that he knew denoted a captain. Behind him, a man that was slightly older, wearing a red shirt; his stripes denoting--a pause for recall--lieutenant commander. A man with a blue shirt and a sour expression, also a lieutenant commander, stood beside the man with a red shirt, though by his shifting stance Spock suspected he wanted to stand right next to the captain. There was another row of three behind them, a woman with dark skin that Spock thought looked rather beautiful, if fierce, in her red dress, a man with pale features, sharp eyes, and dark hair, and a young man, hardly out of boyhood. The last two men both wore gold, like their captain.
He adjusted the collar of his grey-white robes as they talked. Pleasantries that all of them had heard before. Gratitude from Vulcan to James T. Kirk and the Enterprise for all they had done to stop the Romulan who had sought to destroy their entire race, bravery, courage...it was nothing Spock particularly needed to pay attention to. So he took the time to study the humans, especially this James T. Kirk. His arrogance and ego were readily apparent, practically filling the room, as the Elders lavished ceremonial praise on him. Kirk even shared occasional glances with the man in blue and and the man in red.
The Elders were beginning to reach the words that this captain had not heard yet during his ceremonial tour of New Vulcan. Spock smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles from the sleeves of his robes before he turned his eyes back to the lead man in gold, to watch his face.
"...To express the gratitude of ourselves and of all Vulcans upon thee, we present our most honoured thol'es-kafeh," This was the point where Spock knew he was supposed to step forward, and so he did, with all the limitless grace of his station, until he was within six feet of the captain. A bow from the waist that had his back nearly parallel with the floor, his arms still at his sides, and his dark eyes only leaving the man's face for an instance. In the warm stillness of the room, he could hear the woman in the back row utter a small gasp, but he did not glance to see her horrified expression.
Blue eyes focused on Spock a moment later, but there was an obvious confusion written clearly on the human's face. The sour-looking man in the blue shirt looked to the dark-skinned woman, as if trying to figure out why suddenly she had gotten such a look of alarm on her face, all while the older male in red raised an eyebrow and glanced between Spock and the Elders, as if two and two were slowly making four. Kirk studied Spock for a moment, the sense of ego and pride unfading despite his confusion that remained in his eyes. His lips moved, and if studied, he was obviously trying to repeat the Vulcan word that had just been used.
"I am Spock," The half-Vulcan announced, emotionlessly, blandly, fingers lacing together in front of him. "It is a privilege, Captain Kirk, to be able to serve a great man like yourself," The subtle flattery, covered in that same flat tone, sounded almost mocking. "I hope that I will be able to adequately perform any task which you deign to assign me."
That look of confusion only grew as Spock spoke until finally, the captain turned enough to look back at the dark-skinned woman he traveled with. It was impossible to see what Kirk was mouthing, considering the lack of sound. The woman swallowed visibly, then gave a small gesture with her chin. The silence Kirk was giving would be considered insulting. Kirk turned his head back to the Elders, and Spock, and finally spoke, "...Forgive me, but... I am not familiar with that word or...this gift," He shifted slightly in his stance, hands clasped behind his back in an uneasy parade rest.
What an unfortunate universe this was on him, Spock idly thought to himself, as he heard the captain express his ignorance. Of all his training in the fine arts of his profession, and a path that he had artfully crafted for the past several years that would have eventually led him to a comfortable retirement in an expensive penthouse in Shi'Kahr, events have turned his entire life over to the fumbling hands of this too-young captain. He knew the man in gold was too young for his post, as all the other captains of Starfleet he had attended to had been older by at least five years, and more often, ten. Kirk didn't even have the reasoning capabilities to figure out from context what was happening, and if Spock's knowledge of Terran culture was accurate, it would not occur to him unless someone was blunt about the matter.
Out of the corner of his eye, Spock could see the Elders glancing about themselves, as they had not expected the captain's ignorance. As the only one among those present who knew and was willing to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen, he felt he had to speak. If it was going to be rude, he didn't fear any retribution; he was formally out of their hands, and into Kirk's. Spock doubted that the man would have the spine, or the knowledge about his power, to do anything about it. "I believe the closest Terran equivalent of a thol'es-kafeh is a 'concubine' or 'courtesan,'" He was too focused on Kirk's face to notice how the young man in the background widened his eyes and prodded the dark-haired man impatiently in the shoulder, and how the woman gained another shade of horrified on her expression. "However, it is not a direct translation. My skill set is much more expansive and varied."
The expression on the captain's face immediately went from confused to a mixture of horror and disgust for a single moment, then it soothed into something calmer as he most likely attempted not to insult anyone.The dark-haired man near the back just looked to the young man for a moment before looking almost amused, sucking on his lower lip. The older male in the red shirt just had turned away, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. Kirk's voice dropped, speaking more towards Spock alone, "...Your...skill set," Not quite a question, not quite a statement.
"It is where the divergence of the two terms occurs. I may perform tasks not traditionally attributed to a concubine, should you desire it. However, the full extent of my abilities requires lengthy explanation, and would be suitable to another time and place," He had no desire to stand in front of the Elders and express what could be considered pride. He could already feel their collective gaze on his face, waiting for him to slip out of his training and into the behavior of his human blood, despite the fact such a slip had not happened since he was a child.
Kirk let out a slow breath, then turned back to the dark-skinned woman. Finally she let out a sigh and gestured very slightly with her head, "Excuse me a moment," Kirk flashed a grin that looked out of place in the sea of somberness and walked back to her. There was a heated discussion between them, kept so soft that only an occasional word slipped out. The young captain was perhaps not so surprisingly animated when he spoke, forming his words with his hands as humans were want to do. "We can't..." "...honor..." "...with him?!" "...out when we-" "...accept this!" "...no choice!" "...don't like this."
Kirk turned back to the Elders, looked up for a moment as if gathering thoughts, then stepped forward again, "I... thank you for your gift, respected Elders of Vulcan," But his discomfort still showed in his voice despite what he had removed from his face. It was a petty attempt at concealing emotion, one that Spock had been easily able to do by the time he twelve, but here was a twenty-something captain with barely enough control over himself to mask his inner turmoil. This was fortunate; eventually the man would be disposed of due to his lack of diplomatic skills, and since Spock doubted he would be included in any will before that untimely (but ultimately expected) death, he would be back to his residences on the colony within a year.
After his acceptance, the Elders seemed to be more at peace, at least to Spock's trained eye. They continued on, emphasizing what they had said before about gratitude, about how the captain was always welcome at the Vulcan colony, how they hoped he had a successful career, and finally wishing him and his party to live long and prosper complete with the finishing gesture from each of them. Spock knew that, as of now, he was technically a member of the captain's party, and that the salute was directed at him as well. He did not return it.
As they were escorted outside by the attendants, Spock fell into the formation to walk beside the captain. It was a coveted spot, apparently, as the sour man with the blue shirt looked particularly annoyed at him. When the doors finally closed behind them and he did not have to risk earshot of the Elders (even though it didn't matter anymore), his eyes flickered back to the captain's face. There was an odd expression there, something displeased but determined.
"If it is not too troublesome, I have a trunk which I would prefer to keep in my possession," He withheld the information that it was perfectly within Kirk's right to refuse it. Kirk looked to Spock, studying him before nodding.
"Whatever you need, we can have beamed up to the ship," Kirk said in a tight tone. He gestured with his hand and looked back to his crew. "Scotty, let's get everyone back ship-side, and I'll be right along with Spock."
"Aye aye Cap'in," Scotty, the older man in the red shirt, nodded to his captain with only a glance back at the new comer to their party. There was a look shared between captain and the sour-faced man, something unreadable, and then a smile came to Kirk's face.
Kirk turned back to Spock, the smile dying from his lips. "Come on, we'll get your stuff and Scotty'll beam us back up when we're set," Indicating for Spock to lead the way.
Spock gave a single nod before he began to walk down the arched hallways. There were several turns, giving the indication that the building was more complex than what was readily apparent. Finally, they reached a quiet corridor on the far end of the building, which was lit through the gabled ceiling by muted sunlight. Spock opened a plain wooden door with no apparent markings into a room that was equally plain: a bed with white bedsheets, a window that looked over the dry, rocky terrain outside, and a small steel desk with a chair. These were not his quarters as they had been on Vulcan, but the austerity was matched rather closely. Against the wall, a moderately-sized, rectangular trunk that showed the illusion of a red-grain wood, but was probably composed of light-weight aluminum or similar. There were half-hidden casters on each of the corners. Secured and locked via a depressed and shielded number bad on the lid, Spock grabbed the handle on the right side to tip it onto its left, and then gave an unreadable look to Kirk. "This will be all."
The captain moved enough to look out the window, studying the orange-crimson surface outside of it. There was a sheen of sweat along his forehead, humans so unused to the heat of Vulcan. He turned back on his heel, and said bluntly, "...You know I don't want this," Kirk looked to his face, his own expression tight. "...Humans don't do this sort of thing, and I didn't know Vulcans did."
Spock blinked at him and his hand rested on the smooth surface of the trunk at his side. Kirk's approach to the situation was no surprise, but he thought that they would at least get off the planet before he made his displeasure known. He underestimated the man's boldness, even in the face of all he had heard...and that was somewhat disquieting. Was he so unexperienced that he could not read or predict a man who showed his emotions so obviously? "It is not as common as it had once been in the past," Spock informed him, referring to the this Kirk seemed reluctant to actually put specifics on. "But it still serves a purpose for the society," Watching him, as he paused, and continued. "...To come into your possession was not my decision, Captain."
"...Possession," That single word was spoken with a great deal of disgust, none directed at Spock himself. "Let's set one thing straight, right away. Whatever they wanted you to be, you're not. You're not my possession," Those blue eyes met Spock's firmly, as if trying to drill home that point. "If I'm bringing you back up to the ship, you're either my guest or part of my crew. Which would you rather be?" His arms crossed over his chest, stubborness in his expression and tone.
Decisions, freedom of choice--how perfectly human of him. If Spock were not so offset by Kirk's open denial of ancient Vulcan customs, as well as reality in general, he would have thought how representative this man was of his species in general. "I believe that if I were a member of your crew, I would be of greater use to you," And from what he had heard from various clients, being an officer aboard a Federation starship was not difficult (compared to the politics he had to deal with in regular circumstances). "Though I will always be of your possession, whether you acknowledge it or not."
"Maybe to the Vulcans, but everywhere else, no," Kirk seemed to be absolutely refusing that concept. He changed his stance, nodding slightly. "Crew, then. We'll see what we can do," He reached around behind him and pulled out his communicator, flipping it open with a flick of his wrist. "Kirk to Enterprise."
"Aye, sir. Ready ta beam up?"
Kirk walked over to the other side of the chest, putting his hand on it to make sure it would come up with them. "Two to beam up," He closed the communicator, sliding it back into place. "...I'll be damned happy to be out of this heat," Muttered to no one at all, it seemed. Light curled around both of them as a certain sense of weightlessness moved through them, and Vulcan disappeared.
When they both reappeared, along with the chest, they were standing on the transporter pad of the Enterprise. Kirk shook himself off slightly, then looked to Spock. He gestured towards the chest, "Need help with it?" Before even waiting for an answer, he looked back to Scotty, "Call someone ahead to have quarters made up?"
"...Aye, Cap'in," Scotty just gave a sly grin towards the other two men.
Despite the bulk of it, it was not too heavy on Spock's arm. With one hand grasped firmly about the handle, he simply lifted it off the pad to step down to the floor proper, where the casters would do the rest of the work. Then he looked back at the captain. "There are certain procedures before one can be cleared as a crew member on a Starfleet vessel, if I recall correctly," He kept his voice soft, personal; he did not know why Scotty was grinning, and he did not want to encourage it.
"Mmm, once we figure out where to set you in, I'll get to work on it," Kirk said easily enough, walking through the halls. Spock was getting none too few interesting looks as they went towards the residential quarters, though he ignored the looks, as the others' opinions were none of his concern. "So, what type of skills do you have?"
The trunk rolled along by Spock's side as they walked. "I have extensive laboratory experience concerning quantum, relativistic, and temporal physics, physical and organic chemistry, and general xenobiological processes. While not my primary field of concentration, I have also studied linguistics, astrography, and warp core dynamics to tested proficiency," He paused, and then added, as if a side note: "Due to the nature of my profession, interspecies diplomacy may be counted among my abilities as well."
There was now a very surprised look on Kirk's face, a brief look of awe before everything turned into a wide grin, "Well now, not what I was expecting!" He nodded firmly, "Perfect, we'll put you in with the rest of the science geeks down in the labs. The Enterprise has twelve top of the line labs including chemical, bio-medical, and nearly anything else you can imagine," He spoke of the Enterprise like it was his own child he was proud of--a tone which Spock noted for later reference.
Spock also kept silent the comment that he doubted the facilities on board this ship would stretch the limits of his imagination, but he supposed some access to his hobby was better than none at all. Kirk was being remarkably honest on a matter that required none of it. "I look forward to working among them," It was the least provocative thing he could say, and he knew it was in his best interests to prolong the time that the expression was on the captain's face.
Kirk looked forward, thinking. "...We'll have--" He paused, eyeing Spock, then the grin only grew. "We'll have to take you to get a uniform. If you're going to be part of my crew, you're going to look it," He seemed to be amused at the idea.
The slightest inclination of Spock's head as he agreed with him, though he would not have put it quite in that wording himself. "Understandable," Given the captain's previous opinions, it was no surprise that he would not want to proclaim his power over Spock, though Spock doubted a change of clothes would be enough to hide it in the long run.
"We'll get you introduced to the crew..." He closed his eyes, thinking as they walked. A yeoman came up to him, and they spoke briefly. Kirk nodded to her, and they continued, "Your quarters are right up here..." A look over the hallway, and he walked up to a set of doors. They opened with their quiet hiss, and Kirk stepped inside. The quarters were simple, comfortable, regulation. At least, Spock noted, the rooms were bigger than his standard residence.
He wheeled the trunk over to the wall by the bed, gently lowering the trunk until it rested on the ground in its proper orientation. Then he removed the robe from his shoulders, which had covered a shirt whose sleeves came to his elbows and pants of a similar colour. Folding the robe neatly, and setting it across the bed, "Uniforms, Captain? Or introductions first?"
The outfit was eyed, but before Kirk could open his mouth, the doors opened again. It was the sour-faced man from before. He eyed Spock with a dark look, then looked to Kirk, "Jim, if he's going to be staying on the ship, I want him down in sickbay for a physical."
"Couldn't wait ten minutes to get that out, could you?" Kirk said with the easy tone that showed these two must be long time friends.
"It's regulation and you know it," Came the snapped response.
Which was matched by an eyeroll, "Right, right. He would have needed one anyway because starting today, he's joining the science crew," Kirk crossed his arms, smirking just a little. "Spock, meet Doctor Leonard McCoy, my chief medical officer."
Spock looked between the two of them, and the reasons for the earlier jealousy became clear, if no less idiotic. He gave a bow to McCoy, similar to the one had given Kirk when he had first been introduced, with his hands at his sides. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Doctor," If there were other people on the ship for whose happiness he had to be wary of, it was always the medical staff. He had great faith in their abilities, but none in their benevolence.
Probably for the better when it came to this particular doctor. McCoy gave a small grunt, nodding, "And you," He said in that voice with a hint of a drawl.
"Well, would you rather get your uniform first or deal with the physical?" Kirk asked Spock, but McCoy gestured.
"Bring him down to sickbay, and he can change into a new uniform when he's done," The doctor said, crossing his arms. A force to be reckoned with on this ship, it seemed. Such a blatant show of this power made Spock more inwardly cautious of the doctor than before.
However, he still thought his suggestion was sound even if he tried to sort out any malevolence in his intentions. "I agree with the Doctor, Captain. It would be the most efficient use of time, given the course of a routine physical."
The doctor and the captain shared a look, and finally Kirk just shook his head, grinning. "I'll leave you in our doctor's capable hands then while I go and see what we can do about a uniform."
McCoy just eyed Spock, and gestured with his head. "Come on, then. You get to be my first experience in dealing with Vulcan biology. This ought to be entertaining."
"...Just don't break him, Bones," Kirk offered in a tone mixed between amusement and wariness, as if Spock really had something to worry about.
"I won't, I won't," McCoy didn't look back, just started off towards sickbay.
Kirk glanced over his shoulder, "...You'll get used to him. He doesn't mean it."
Spock said nothing to any of these comments, quietly following McCoy to the sickbay. Along the walk, he was more observant of the looks he was getting. He reasoned that it must be a combination of factors that drew their eyes to him, mostly because of his different garments and his Vulcan features. When they entered the medical division of the Enterprise, he would not say that he was impressed, but there were numerous pieces of equipment that drew his eye, either because he did not recognize them, could not gleam their function, or otherwise struck by the newness of it all. His exposure to the medical field had been limited, but its overlap with science was enough than an impression was made. This preview of the ship's facilities bubbled up a strange and minute sense of hope that the actual science labs were just as worthwhile.
At a gesture, he sat on one of the biobeds in the room they had emerged in, empty except for the two of them. Once he came in contact with it, the machine began to make noises of mechanical annoyance. Sensors indicated that his heartbeat was too fast to survive, and likewise with his blood pressure too low, his temperature too high; the oxygen content in his blood was poisonous; sodium levels were fatal...
"OFF!" Came the venomous tone, and McCoy gestured for Spock to get off of the straining biobed. "Damn pointy-earred..." Came the grumble as the doctor moved along side of the bed, pointing a chair. Spock automatically rose from the bed to sit where indicated. The machine calmed down. "These aren't programmed for Vulcans," He ran his fingertips over the console as if soothing a storm-addled animal. "Going to have to do everything the old fashion way... your last visit to a doctor, were you given a clean bill of health?" Those brown eyes were turned on Spock, narrowed.
"Of course," Spock began to undo the buttons of his shirt, starting at the collar and working his way down with steady fingers. He kept his eyes on McCoy. "I must also inform you, Doctor, that I am not fully Vulcan," As much as it pained him at his core to say it. However, the tone was just as even as he partly revealed his lineage; he had practiced this particular sentence many times.
Brows immediately shot up with that. "Then what's the rest of you, if you're not a full blooded Vulcan?" He sat on the edge of the biobed, and it picked up on his own stats immediately, settling them in the green.
Spock finally reached the bottom button of the shirt before he opened its folds. He drew it away from his shoulders that, in some people's eyes, would seem seductive--but this was how he always did, either out of habit or training or both. It was against his very sensibilities to jerk his clothes off, as he had seen some people do in the past. "Human," He began to fold the shirt like he had done the robe.
Well, the doctor's brows had become part of his hairline as he studied Spock. His eyes were slightly wide, but otherwise he seemed much better at hiding his feelings then his captain. "Well." He said simply, then turned away and dug into a container. He pulled out an old bag and grabbed a padd at the same time. He looked over Spock, then grabbed his tricorder. "How much human?" Carefully taking notes as he scanned - heartbeat, blood pressure, temperature - basics.
When he wasn't watching McCoy take notes, Spock watched the movements of the tricorder as it hovered over him. He hoped, even though it had never been a problem in the past, the white-gold metal of the two captive rings on his chest, each closed with something small, round, and jade, would not interfere with the readings. "Half. My mother was fully human, to my knowledge."
"I see..." Muttered in a half-hearted fashion, McCoy's attention obviously on the readings. "Fast heartbeat, higher temperature, surprisingly lower blood pressure..." Murmuring to himself as he wrote in fast short hand. He struck something out at the top of the page and notated, 1/2 Vulcan 1/2 Human Father Mother. "I'm going to need a blood, urine, and semen sample from you." In that inpersonal doctor's tone. Already he was standing up, walking over to pull out a tray, searching for what he would need to get his samples.
"Very well," As McCoy had his back to him, Spock stood from his seat and began to dismantle his remaining garments. First undoing the knot of a thin white strip of cloth that functioned as a belt from his waist, before unhooking various clasps and buttons. He noted to himself that if the Doctor didn't assemble his necessities in a timely fashion, they would both have to deal with troublesome human modesty--and it would not be the first time Spock had experienced a shadow of irritation towards it.
When the doctor turned back around, there was only a moment of obvious surprise that Spock had begun to disrobe himself completely while he was still in the room before the man shrugged as if to himself. He walked across the room and locked the door, then came back. He put aside two specimen cups and gestured for Spock to give him his arm. "This'll be a learning experience for us both at this rate." He muttered, "You'd figure for being one of the four species that started the Federation there would be more medical information but there's little to none. I even brought it up in one of my classes but the teacher changed the subject."
By this time, Spock stood nude, not even a minor flush on his skin that would hint at any embarrassment. For what was there to be embarrassed about: he knew his body, never quite proud of it because pride was something he did not maintain on a regular basis, and this man was a doctor. He held out his arm patiently. "It would be useless for humans and most other species to become aware of the intimate details of Vulcan biology," He informed him, calmly, as if this were a scientific discussion between two colleagues. "A substantial part of healing for Vulcans is comprised of mental processes of which you have no conception, and therefore cannot assist with."
The glare Spock got could melt through metal. He was beginning to think that the doctor's ever-present look of annoyance must have been the man's most endearing quality for the crew. "Look, while you're on this damn ship, I'm your doctor. I'm not about to sit here and get insulted," Despite his obvious anger, the hands that took Spock's arm and nestled the hypo in to draw blood were gentle. "We'll see how much I need to be aware of if you get really hurt and there's nothing I can do because your damned people won't give us anything," McCoy grumbled, drawing the hypo away. "Urine," Nudged a cup, "Semen," The second cup. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes while I run a scan on this blood. Got it?"
He gave a single nod with a calm "Understood," and waited until the doctor left the room. Then, he filled the cups with their respective samples, closing his eyes for a moment to focus on commanding his body before he started on the second. It was quick, he was thinking about wave-particle duality the entire time, and did not even have a blush on his cheeks when McCoy returned fifteen minutes later with cloth folded in his arms and a pair of boots settled on top. Spock sat, very calmly, at the edge of the chair, back straight while his clothes were folded neatly on the seat behind him.
"Is there anything more you require?" He questioned.
McCoy eyed Spock for a moment, putting aside what obviously was a folded uniform, then gesture towards the biobed, "Bed. We'll make this quick. Lay down on your back."
Spock looked from McCoy to the biobed and then rose from his seat to walk over to the equipment he had bothered earlier. However, when he sat down on it, the sensors did not start to make strange whirring and beeping noises as they had before. He moved to lay on his back with graceful movements, until he was staring up at the ceiling and his body was stretched out before the other. The doctor propped up a padd beside the table, facing himself, and went to work. His touch was careful, prodding carefully along Spock's body, brows furrowing. Occassionally he would make a small noise, or write something down on the padd. Each touch was clinical, whether it was along the arms, ribs, or groin. "...prostate cancer..." Came the faint murmur out of no where as McCoy felt carefully, one that briefly made Spock's brows narrow in concern. Finally, McCoy nodded. "As far as I can tell, you're a picture of Vulcan health. Jim's waiting for you, so get dressed," A point towards the pile of uniform, "And come out when you're done," McCoy left him alone again, and there was a faint mutter of conversation out in the next room almost immediately.
Spock strained to hear what was being said in the other room, but the walls and the doors were too thick. He eyed the uniform from afar, until he approached it and took each garment in hand, examining it. The trousers fit nicely with enough give for running or crouching, and he did not see any need to alter the hem of the pant legs. The undershirt was nothing surprising, black and form-fitting, but the overshirt in particular caught his attention, with the delta symbol of Starfleet patterned across the blue fabric. There were no stripes where he had seen them on the officer's uniform. Once he was wearing all of the garments, including the boots that came with the ensemble, he checked himself over, smoothed out any wrinkles, and walked outside to where he had seen McCoy leave. In that room, McCoy and Kirk were talking together about a private subject; as soon as McCoy spotted Spock, he clammed up immediately. Kirk studied Spock for a moment, an odd look on his face, before he just shrugged at McCoy. He smiled in that easy way to Spock, "Come on, let's head down to the science labs... take a tour on the way," Spock was eyed up and down, then Kirk's grin grew, "Uniforms looks good on you. Then again, I'm pretty sure the Federation made it so it looks good on anyone."
No, Spock would not tell him that the purpose of standardized uniforms was to flatter no one and everyone as much as possible. The man was grinning without any active assistance, which made his job easier overall. If it meant staying silent on most comments, Spock would be so. "I am glad that it pleases you," A slight inclination of his head. While he could withhold his more haughty comments, there were other such sayings, like this, that he could not suppress thanks to years of training. Despite Kirk's insistence earlier and this guise of being a regular crew member that he was meant to hold up, Spock was still very much aware of Kirk's title as his proprietor (among other things).
"Good, both of you, out of my sickbay," McCoy snapped, then left through another door.
Kirk just shook his head, "Bones doesn't like healthy people in his sickbay. Can't imagine why. I think because they're harder to chase down with a hypo--"
"I HEARD THAT!" McCoy shouted back. Spock was right, about the man's endearing qualities.
"...Well, that means whatever hypo I get next is going to hurt. Or be fatal," Kirk said in an easy way, but he did scoot out of sickbay in a somewhat dignified way. He led Spock through the ship as they meandered their way down towards the science labs, explaining with a keen eye and surprising knowledge about different aspects of the ship. The Enterprise was always referred to as 'she' or 'her' with familiarity like Kirk was speaking about a family member or lover. It was not something that surprised Spock, but merely affirmed the fact that Kirk was a captain; others had referred to their own ships in the same affectionate terms.
When they did, finally, arrive at the labs, even upon entering the first one Spock had to restrain himself. It was just as he had suspected when he was in the sickbay--and more. More equipment, more chemicals, more--was that a nuclear centrifuge? was that the beginnings of a particle accelerator? was that--experiments being conducted left and right, samples of things on the shelves that he had only seen once in his life and yearned to use again. The proto-excitement, the emerging itch to don the gloves, slap on the goggles, and get to work on research he had been brewing on for years now--it only physically manifested itself in the slightest clench of his fist behind his back. "Fascinating."
"...You have that gleam in your eye," Kirk said out of no where, watching Spock. The half-Vulcan, at this remark, immediately attempted to wipe it from his face, with little success. "The same one every science geek that steps into these labs get, like they want to run in and start right now. Bones got the same thing when he saw the bio-medical labs," He grinned just a bit more, pleased from his tone. He eyed the people in the labs, then gestured, "Russel!" A dark haired older male turned around, goggles around his forehead and a small tan line that showed he usually was wearing them.
"Captain?"
"Come here. I'd like you to meet Spock... new genius we picked up on Vulcan," That easy tone and smile made the white lie smooth as silk.
Russel offered Spock a hand, hesitated, then smirked a little, "Right, Vulcan's don't shake hands. Nice to meet you. Name's Peter Russel," Spock gave him a greeting nod.
"Russel's our current head of the science labs... we're down a chief science officer at the moment. We were in the search for one when the call came from the colony... decided it could wait until we got back," Kirk informed.
Spock surveyed the area they were standing in one more time before he addressed Russel. "These laboratories are remarkably well-equipped," He internally struggled not to say too much more than that, and also to keep the same calm and collected tone. "Are there any procedures to which I may immediately assist?" Kirk was right: Spock wanted to roll up his sleeves and get to work right now.
"My kind of man!" Russel laughed, and gestured, "Come, come... let's see what you know." He winked to the Captain, who just smirked before he waved the two of them off to enjoy themselves. Russel immediately started to pick at Spock's brain as he showed Spock what he was currently working on - a delicate strand of crystal that they were starting to work on as a possible new element for a more effective phaser.
Over his shoulder, Spock glimpsed Kirk leaving with a shake of his head, looking amused.
Chapter Two