The Flavor of Laughter, Part Two Chapter Eight (20/36)

[brytewolf]

Title: The Flavor of Laughter, Part Two Chapter Eight (20/36)
Author: brytewolf
Beta: awarrington
Series: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~5,800 (Total so far, >100k)
Genre: Adventure/Romance
Summary: He is Starfleet’s youngest captain. But he is untried, and inexperienced. What kind of captain will James Tiberius Kirk become? A story in three parts. Slow-building, will eventually be K/S.

Previous Chapter

Part One, Chapter One

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Chapter Eight

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"Mr. Spock, may I see you in my ready room?" Kirk asks, keeping his finger depressed on the intercom unit. His other hand is tapping insistently on the PADD he's been re-reading for the last hour as he tried to unravel everything contained therein.

"Certainly, Captain," comes the immediate reply, and only then does Kirk release the comm. button to close the channel. He stares, unseeing, at the PADD as he runs his hand through his hair. It's only a moment and then the chime announces his first's presence.

Pressing the button that opens the door, he watches Spock enter his ready room with the confidence the Vulcan always displays. Waiting until after the door is firmly closed, Kirk holds up the PADD for Spock to read. "Tell me what you think of this," he says, curious if the Vulcan will come to the same conclusion he did.

While Spock is reading, Kirk takes the opportunity to watch him without having to worry about it being obvious. Strongly muscled arms and broad shoulders, his long, tapered fingers wrap gently around the sides of the PADD. The Vulcan's head is bent forward slightly as he reads, his right eyebrow rising higher and higher as he gets further into the mission briefing.

When he's finished, he holds the PADD out to be retrieved; his eyes lift to meet Kirk's. "It appears as if the Admiralty is giving us a mission that does not take full advantage of our capabilities."

Snorting at the understatement, Kirk takes the PADD back – only to drop it on the desk as if it disgusts him. He folds his hands before himself, trying to contain the frustrated energy wringing through him.

"It's something that a courier should be taking care of." Giving up the cause as useless, Kirk stands and crosses to the empty patch of floor – pacing back and forth in the path that's been worn in the carpeting already. "We're ferrying two politicians through protected Federation space from Starbase 24 to Mandeler – which, as far as I can tell, is some backwater planet! We're the flagship, and this is taking up time where we could be doing something important. They're turning us into a taxi service, that's what the Admiralty's done."

He can feel Spock's eyes on him as he paces, but he's unable to meet them. He has his suspicions as to why Starfleet is doing this to the Enterprise.

"I am certain, Captain," Spock replies, voice even and without overtone, "that the Admiralty has its reasons for sending the flagship on this mission. These politicians are important to the Federation, and it is very likely that we are being sent because of this."

Stopping with his back to Spock, he lowers his head and runs his hand through his hair. "Do you think it's because we lost two men?"

A pause, long enough to make him begin to worry, before Spock replies. "I do not follow your logic, Captain. What pertinence would our loss of crew have to this mission?"

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. It's been two weeks since his attack, two weeks since he lost people that were under his protection, and it hurts less but it's still a knife wound to the gut every time he has to talk about it. Pushing all emotion to the side, always to be dealt with later, he turns to face Spock once again.

"I think it's very important, Spock," he answers the question, meeting the Vulcan's eyes. "I think that they're seeing that I lost –" He cuts himself off and tries again. "We lost people on a simple survey mission, during broad daylight when it could have been easily avoided. If you ask me, that's the reason why they're giving us a mission we could accomplish with our eyes closed and the warp engine down. This is the kind of thing I expected four months ago, when we finished with New Vulcan – but not now, when we know how to work together as a cohesive whole. I think they're worried that we'll be useless for anything important. They're babying us."

The Vulcan blinks, once, before responding with, "And what if they are?"

His hand bunches into a fist before he's conscious of it, and he has to force the fingers to relax. "Because we don't need it, damn it."

"The Admiralty is considering your entire crew in its choices, Captain," Spock murmurs, and Kirk can see those dark eyes intent on the hand at his side. "I have discussed the outcome of the last mission with Lt. Uhura, and what she has told me about the crew's reactions is logical, and pertinent to this conversation. Dr. McCoy has informed you that a number of crew have sought bereavement counseling following the loss of their colleagues. She believes that the reason some are having difficulty coping is that the deaths have come so soon after the Narada battle. The two deceased crewmen had made friends and were considered colleagues by many throughout the ship during the 4.53 months since we departed Earth. She believes they require a time of adjustment to their loss, and the reality that this will happen again."

The Vulcan pauses, his eyes alighting on the PADD lying on Kirk's desk, speculation in their depths. "They are mandating shore leave when we arrive at Mandeler, are they not?" His eyes return to Kirk's, who shifts his shoulders under Spock's gaze, uncomfortable.

He sighs, defeated by the logic in the argument. They have been working together so well, handling missions that would have broken other crews, that sometimes he forgets that many of his people are as unseasoned as he is. That they, too, are flung out of their element and have to deal with new realities on a regular basis. And that not all of them have the command training he has, and are not as well equipped to deal with the loss of fellow crew members.

"One week, rotating shifts," Kirk says, lifting his hand to rub the rest of the tension out of his neck.

Spock nods, a satisfied look in his eyes. "Then my logic is sound. They are giving us a straightforward mission, for the purpose of giving our crew time to recover and return to full performance. It is not a response to any incompetency on your part, if that is what your commentary about the circumstances surrounding their death was about to imply."

A small, sheepish grin hovers around the corners of Kirk's lips, as he shrugs the rest of his worry away. He had been afraid of that – is always afraid of that – as the months tick by and he gets closer and closer to the end of his year. Their deaths could have been avoided, but if Spock believes that the Admiralty doesn't see it that way, that's enough for him.

"Are you sure?" he asks, allowing some of his uncertainty into his voice.

"I am unable to speculate on either the strategic thinking or the motivations behind the decisions of certain senior StarFleet staff," Spock replies, the words coming easily. "However, I am able to reassure you that following my review of the reports of all three survivors, all necessary protocols were followed. There was nothing incorrect about their actions, and the resulting deaths were unavoidable. While you, as commanding officer, are held accountable for what occurred, no-one was at fault, and the Admiralty is aware of this fact."

Holding back his automatic protest that there must have been something he could have done differently to prevent their deaths, he allows the words to do what was intended – reassure him. His smile may be shaky, but it's wider as he walks up to Spock.

Kirk stops a comfortable distance away, the ever-present need to touch the Vulcan suppressed with the ease of long habit as he smiles into those dark eyes. "Thanks, Spock. I needed to hear that."

The Vulcan nods. "As your first officer, it is my duty to ensure your continued well-being, Captain."

It's hard to stop his first response to that from coming out, but he manages. Jerking his head toward the door, he answers with what is safe instead. "Come on, let's give the crew the good news – shore leave for a week!"

---

Eyes trying to take in everything at once, he stands by the side of the throughway, waiting less than patiently. After picking up the politicians at Starbase 24, it was a simple matter to ferry them to their destination. Mandeler likes to think it will someday be the next Risa. But from what Kirk's heard, it's not as pretty, and not as cultured. He believes that it has the possibility to be the planet everyone who can't afford Risa goes to visit on holidays, but that'll be after about a decade of work. Right now it's a little too loose, a little too dirty, and a bit too unrefined. But that's why the politicians wanted to come here – the potential, and the ability to exploit it.

He sighs deeply, relishing the fact that there isn't any tension left in his body. Changing his mind after only a day on the planet, Kirk now firmly believes that the shore leave was a good idea all around. Even if they didn't have the loss to deal with, his people needed some time to relax and relieve stress. He glances at Bones, standing beside him, and smiles at the doctor – all traces of his usual grumpiness have disappeared.

Clapping his friend on the shoulder, Kirk can't help but grin. "I've had a good time with you, Bones." As repentance for ignoring Bones, Kirk spent all four days of his leave with him, and they spent their time running across the planet and exploring as much as possible. This is the last day of their freedom, and the only day they'll intentionally run into other members of the crew – Uhura and Spock should be meeting up with them at any moment. The Vulcan had not wanted to participate in the shore leave, but after some cajoling Kirk had finally gotten him to agree to taking two of the days allotted.

Snorting, but without his usual force behind it, Bones glances at Kirk. "Yeah, kid, me too. Makes me wish we could spend more time planet-side."

He knows the comment comes mostly from Bones' still present astraphobia, more than a desire to stay on the planet. Kirk has seen the doctor when he's in his element, the calm in the middle of the storm that is Sickbay in a crisis – and knows that his friend wouldn't want to be anywhere else. In that regard, he's very much like Scotty. The engineer sacrificed his whole leave so he could make the upgrades to their cabins that he'd promised – he didn't want to waste the opportunity presented by large numbers of the cabins being unoccupied at a time while their owners were on leave.

"Not me, Bones – stuck in this place any longer, and I'd start to get bored," he admits, "and you know what trouble I get into when that happens!" he adds, knowing it'll make the doctor laugh.

His friend chuckles, and then notices Uhura has appeared beside him. She gives Bones one of her winning smiles, and then turns to Kirk as she responds to his comment. "But, Kirk – you're always bored. That's what makes you so dangerous."

Returning the smile, his eyes are only on her a moment before alighting on Spock at her side and he has to resist the urge to sigh in contentment. Spock looks very much…like Spock, but a little more relaxed around the eyes.

His grin widens, as he addresses her soft jibe, "Yup, yup, that's me – boredom is a sign of being too intelligent for the subject matter. Isn't that right, Spock?"

The Vulcan is watching him, traces of humor in his expression as he replies with, "While Vulcans are not prone to boredom, it is certainly true of Humans, ne ki'ne."

The word creates a spot of heat in Kirk's belly, warming him with the thought of having connections – of belonging. He ducks his head to hide the blush that he can feel on his cheeks – more from Bones than anyone else, as he can feel his friend's laughing eyes upon him.

Bones sniggers at his discomfort, turning to view the entrance to the bazaar – their reason for meeting here, in this place. "If you three are done with your hellos, I wanna go inside – my bones aren't getting any younger while we stand here."

Expecting a comment from Uhura about how the doctor isn't old at all, Kirk's grin gets wider. Then it falters, as no response is forthcoming. Reaching out a hand to brush her elbow in question, he freezes as he sees her stiffen. Without comment, or even a glance in his direction, she hooks her arm in Bones', and begins walking towards the bazaar.

Confused, Kirk watches her for a few moments more – until a wash of heat at his side signals that Spock has moved close. He glances up into warm mahogany eyes that look genuinely pleased to see him, and all thoughts of Uhura's odd behavior escape him.

Walking side by side, barely a breath of space between them, they slip into comfortable conversation as they follow the couple into the bazaar.

(*)

Kirk can't really be faulted if watching Spock is infinitely more interesting than digging through the stalls in the bazaar. The only time he was distracted was at the booksellers stall – actual, antique books from Earth that somehow found their way onto this out of the way planet. But once he made his purchases, and was clutching his bag protectively to his chest, it was back to watching Spock.

The four friends threaded their way through the aisles of the bazaar, past many sellers with wares both familiar and extraordinary, and are now lingering in the section at the back – where the livestock and produce are kept together.

Kirk shifts the bag in his arms, resting its weight on a hip as he observes Spock. The Vulcan is currently occupied in a stall that sells small animals, the different creatures in cages covering its tables. His eyes are focused, intent, as he moves around the stall from animal to animal, until he makes his way back towards the entrance.

But the last animal on the table catches his attention, and he pauses to stare – obviously fascinated – as he catalogs her movements. Kirk can't help but grin when he realizes what mesmerized the Vulcan, taking the step that puts him right at Spock's side. Aware of Kirk's presence, but seemingly unwilling to stop watching the animal, Spock asks, "I am unfamiliar with the breed of this feline."

Leaning forward with a grin, he whispers in the Vulcan's ear. "That's a ragdoll. They were a very popular breed created in the late 1900s, known for being big, and very sweet."

This particular specimen is a very plump seal-point female, her leg pointing straight up in the air as she cleans the white toes on her other foot with a delicate pink tongue. Spock's eyes track her every movement, but – and it's probably just Kirk's imagination, but still – his head seems to tilt infinitesimally closer to Kirk's presence at his ear.

Breathing in the unique smell of the Vulcan, Kirk's content to wait right there while Spock watches the cat, but a soft murmur interrupts his revelry. Spock asks him, "I have had little contact with her species, and never in a relaxed setting. She appears concerned with her level of cleanliness – is this typical?"

He chuckles, his breath making the hairs around Spock's pointed ear shift gently, as he replies, "That's what the common belief is, anyway. Cats are supposed to be all clean and stuck up, while dogs are dirty and dopey. That's one of the reasons they're supposed to have a rivalry."

At his words, Spock's behavior changes – instead of leaning towards the cat with interest, he shifts away. He blinks once, turning to watch Kirk. "Are you implying that this animal is the enemy of Archie?"

Kirk can't help but smile at the concern in those eyes, which is obvious to him. "Well, that's what the myth is. I've seen plenty of cats and dogs that get along just fine."

The dark hair moves as Spock's head shakes back and forth, and he shifts his body so he's no longer facing the cat. No longer inches from Spock's ear, Kirk blinks as he stares into wide mahogany eyes. The Vulcan is so close, such a minute distance between them, all he would have to do is lean forward and – but he stops that thought before it finishes percolating, instead focusing on Spock's words.

"That is not acceptable, Jim. Anything that would interfere with Archie's state of being shall not be considered," Spock says, the words said with finality as if a decision has been arrived at. Kirk's brow furrows in surprise, not expecting that type of reaction from the Vulcan. But before he can comment further, or ask what options have been discarded, there's a small, hard elbow digging into his side.

Turning to face whoever interrupted him, his sharp comment dies on his tongue. At some point during his conversation with Spock, Uhura had come up on his other side without his awareness. There's a brittleness to her expression that makes him pause, but instead of addressing whatever is bothering her she holds up her hands.

Nestled inside them is a small, brown, incredibly furry creature. There's so much fuzz it's not possible for Kirk to tell where its face is – or even if it has arms and legs. "What do you think?" she asks, holding it right up in his face so he can get a good look.

Gently, he pushes her hands down with both of his, looking at the creature with curiosity. He can feel Spock looking over his shoulder, also observing the animal. The creature vibrates in her hands at the movement, making a strange cooing noise.

Uhura's face breaks into a smile at the coo, and Kirk can feel himself shiver. He's seen that expression on girl's faces before, and knows what it means. He can't help but give a token protest, knowing it's futile. "But it's a furball! Literally!"

Her eyes rise to meet his, and he can see something hiding beneath her falsely cheerful façade. "I think he's cute – I'm taking him back with me." And without another word, or waiting for a response from Kirk, she walks away to haggle with the shopkeeper.

His hand runs through his hair, then settles at the back of his neck to rub at the tense muscles. The Vulcan behind him keeps his silence as Uhura's credits change hands, not even acknowledging Bones' presence when the doctor walks up beside them.

"Hey, you two – I'm getting sick of this section, can we go somewhere else?" Bones asks, completely oblivious to the silence that's fallen over the friends. His smile brightens as Uhura joins the group again, carrying a box with holes punched in it.

Slipping her arm through Bones' elbow once again, she tells the doctor, "Come on, Leo, I don't want to waste the rest of our leave. Let's spend some time together, just the two of us."

Without saying goodbye to either Spock or Kirk, she turns and begins leading Bones away. Shrugging in confusion, Bones waves over his shoulder before the two of them disappear into the crowd.

Spock, still standing beside him, clears his throat. "Jim, I must also take my leave. I have fulfilled your request, and spent time away from the ship. Now I must return to my duties, if you will excuse me."

Still out of sorts from Uhura's odd behavior, Kirk can do nothing but say goodbye and watch the Vulcan move towards the exit to the bazaar. He's left, confused and frustrated, to spend his remaining night of leave alone.

---

Kirk curses quietly to himself when he realizes he's running late again. It's their first practice since his own shore leave ended, and he planned to arrive early – but, as always, his duties as captain got in the way. Arriving at the door to the rec room, he punches in the entry code and slips into the room, sighing to expel some of his frustration. He finds Spock already inside, moving slowly through the beginning warm ups in the center of the mats.

The Vulcan glances up as Kirk enters; his left eyebrow raises a fraction of a degree. "You are prompt as ever, I observe."

A grunt, as he tries and fails to dredge up a half-smile as he deposits his towel on the bench. He must be especially late, for Spock to have commented on it. To avoid wasting any more time, he kicks off his shoes and joins his friend in the center of the mat, replying as he mirrors the Vulcan's stance. "I'm sorry, Spock. But Scotty needed me to sign off on one last requisition form, but I don't think half his requests are even legal, so it took much longer than I expected –"

Not breaking the movements of the form, Spock pivots so he's facing Kirk. "Apologies are unnecessary, Jim. You appeared worried when you entered the facility, and I was simply attempting to lighten your mood with humor. It is obvious that the effort failed."

"Thanks. So you're learning sarcasm, now? Not bad." The attempt at a half-smile stretches itself into a real grin at Spock's admission.

"Indeed," Spock replies, the eyebrow at a definite tilt now.

And then there's no time for talking, as they flow into the more complex warm-ups – the string of attacks that Kirk has already mastered. During their mission aboard the Narada, Kirk had not gotten time to watch Spock in motion, and had not realized how beautiful the intricate steps of suus mahna are. Now, after progressing through the skills required for the martial art, he can finally see. Simple, fluid moves, circular motions that are deadly in their beauty. And those are just the standard steps. The forms and attacks used by the ancient S'Kanderai are truly an art form, and in comparison the moves of suus mahna appear like the steps of a child first learning to walk.

And they're hard, and at this point still require all of his concentration. As the last of the new forms he's learned comes to a close, he is left breathing heavily as he holds the last position. Kirk is coated in sweat, the Vulcan beside him with not a hair out of place, and they've only just begun for the evening. They've simply practiced the forms and separate moves he's learned well – the rest of their time is allotted to teaching him new and consistently more dangerous steps.

With a bow, they leave the stance, and Spock motions him closer with the shift of a hand. Bouncing lightly on his feet to keep the blood moving, Kirk stops in front of the Vulcan – a comfortable distance between the two.

"I am aware that you already know some of the most destructive of moves," Spock begins, hands clasped lightly behind his back as he explains. "And that your training includes the advanced forms of the S'Kanderai. But with the intention of being thorough with your education, I will continue to instruct you in all the moves of the simplified suus mahna.

Even though internally he's frustrated at being held back, still, Kirk nods his head. He consoles himself with the thought that more teaching means more time with Spock – which is always a good thing.

"This next move should be simple for you to pick up," Spock continues, "and involves one of our more advanced throws." The Vulcan's hands reappear from behind his back, and he is carrying a little rubber knife that was not evident before. "Holding this, come at me as if you were attempting to pierce my chest cavity."

Taking the small dagger, Kirk glances down at it with a grin. He can assume that Spock doesn't want him to attack as he actually would, and instead use a standard frontal assault. Kirk moves forward in one of the most basic of the knife attacks he knows.

As he's done countless times before in these practices, Spock slows down his movements so Kirk can catch everything he does. Grasping Kirk's wrist, Spock gives it an expert twist – making the knife clatter to the floor. A smooth exaggerated pivot, and Spock is tucked into Kirk's chest. The full length of his back is pressed against Kirk's form, and the Human has to force himself to ignore the contact so he can focus on the demonstration.

So close, so much warmth begging him to be lulled into distraction. The subtle hint of coriander and that other, unnamable scent, waft up from Spock's hair, as the Vulcan's elbow stabs backward. A sharp, tempered blow aimed at his solar plexus and then a strong hand is grasping his shoulder.

He barely has time to register the hand, like a burning brand on his skin, before he's flying through the air. Instinct kicks in, and he lands harmlessly – laid out flat on the ground. The Vulcan drops to his knees, twisting the move so that the hand Spock never released is well and truly pinned. An application of pressure sends shooting pain up Kirk's arm, making his back arch, and a well-placed palm strike would have effectively blinded him – had this been real.

His fingers frantically tap to signify he feels the pain in his arm, and Spock holds it for just a moment before releasing him. Then the Vulcan is rising gracefully to his feet, in one effortless, fluid motion, gazing down at Kirk where he lies on his back.

"Is that sufficient, Jim? Or will you require an additional demonstration?" he murmurs, as Kirk grins up at the Vulcan.

Springing lightly to his own feet, he shakes the impacts out of his bones. Simple enough. "Nah, I think I'm good. It's only a basic throw."

Spock tilts his head slightly to the side, his expression betraying that this is the answer he was expecting. He nods, and then the Vulcan leans down to retrieve the fake dagger, giving Kirk an unintentional – and utterly glorious – view of his ass. Kirk admires the view for a couple moments, until his body's automatic response makes him have to glance away. Forcing his body back under his control, he reminds himself that they have to practice still, and he must focus. That he's going to have to press the full length of his body against Spock's to accomplish the throw.

His control is risky at best when Spock is upright once again, and standing with the dagger ready – but he tries. Miming Spock's movements of just minutes before, he goes through the motions of the first part of the take down. He's able to work through the first half of the move with ease, but when he gets to the actual throw his lack of concentration costs him.

Instead of using his own momentum to toss Spock over his shoulder, he gets lost somewhere in the hip motion. The Vulcan ends up suspended half over Kirk's shoulder when his momentum runs out; his legs cannot support the extra weight, and they tumble to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Warmth all around him, as Spock falls on top of him like a blanket. The hardness of the Vulcan's muscles contrast deliciously with the feel of smooth fabric. Kirk tries desperately to keep his mind blank as Spock extricates himself from the tangle.

And then he is looking up at the Vulcan once again, only this time Spock holds out his hand to help Kirk back to his feet. The humor in his eyes is blazing clear and bright – evident for anyone to see. It makes Kirk's chest constrict almost painfully, as he grasps the proffered hand.

"If it is so simple a throw, Jim, I hesitate to inquire as to what occurs when the move is considered difficult." Even the Vulcan's tone is hiding mirth beneath, the liquid low notes dazzling Kirk's ears. He cannot help but grin in response, his teeth flashing as he is pulled effortlessly to his feet. Released once again, he gets ready for Spock's next attack.

Only then, when he is standing and watching the Vulcan intently, does he realize something. Kirk gulps, but it does not go away. At the base of his tongue, tickling the back of his throat, is the delicate hint of apples. Crisp and sweet-sour like the delicious Granny Smiths he used to enjoy when he was back home in Iowa.

But he hasn't tasted an apple in nearly a year.

(*)

"Good night, Jim," Spock says when the practice is officially over. "I will see you tomorrow at the start of shift."

Standing up from the bench, Kirk tosses his towel onto his shoulder and steps closer to the Vulcan. "Hey, Spock – I thought we could play a game of chess tonight."

The Vulcan pauses, his eyes resting on the rec room door. "I have duties to which I must attend, and cannot spend any more time on recreational activities this evening."

Surprised, the muscles of Kirk's shoulders tense as he replies, "But we haven't had a game in over a month! There aren't any urgent experiments in the Science labs. What could possibly need your attention?"

Kirk watches as Spock's posture shifts – no longer relaxed, the Vulcan is at parade rest, with his hands clasped behind his back. It's almost as if he's preparing for a confrontation, which makes Kirk tense in response.

"Not only am I responsible for two key roles on this ship – both Science Officer and First Officer – I have been assisting you with the captain's requisite paperwork," Spock explains, his voice even and neutral. "All three duties require further attention before my responsibilities can be fully discharged."

Using a hand to rub a muscle in his shoulder, Kirk narrows his eyes at the Vulcan. "Are you telling me that, because you're helping me, you're behind in your other duties?"

Spock nods. "Prior to this visit to Mandeler, it was not an issue. I have been accomplishing the additional work during the part of my shift allocated to sleep cycles –"

"Wait a second," Kirk interrupts, holding up a hand to stop the flow of Spock's words. "You've been giving up sleep so you could do my work for me?"

The Vulcan blinks. "This is an incorrect statement. Vulcans do not require as much rest as Humans, therefore I was not depriving myself. I would not have made the offer of assistance had I not had sufficient time available. What was not factored into my original time-management equation was the period of shore leave. It is why I requested to remain on the ship. You may recall I stated that additional rest was unnecessary – which is accurate, as I am fully capable of meditating to accomplish the same ends."

Unintentionally mirroring Spock's motions, Kirk tilts his head to the side. Grinding his teeth together, he says, "The shore leave I convinced you to take." He can remember the conversation quite clearly, especially the part about not being able to enjoy himself if his friends weren't also having fun – even if he wasn't with them. Kirk resists the urge to smack himself on the forehead for not listening to Spock. He simply thought the Vulcan was being stubborn, and even pulled out the brother card to convince Spock to come along.

He can see Spock visibly shift, retreating still further into his proper Vulcan mannerisms. Internally, Kirk kicks himself – this is not how he should be handling this, at all. It's not Spock's fault that he had too much work to be able to afford a break.

"You're the only officer on a constitution class starship who carries out two of the most senior roles. Is being a First and a Science officer too much?"

"Under ordinary circumstances the work required would fall well within my time parameters," Spock comments stiffly. "However, eighty three percent of my science staff are cadet graduates with no line experience. Their training has been intensive and has been an additional, and not inconsiderable, drain on my time. At this stage, the training is yielding significant results, the consequence of which has been a gradual decline in the need for my input. I anticipate that by the end of the mission's first year, the additional time required for staff training will be negligible and I will be able to carry out the two roles with greater ease."

"And meanwhile, on top of all that, you've also been coaching me in my role and giving me martial arts training." Sighing, he runs his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Spock," he says, changing his tone completely. His friend opens his mouth, but before he can speak a word of protest Kirk continues, "And I know you want to tell me that you willingly took on the responsibilities, but that's just way too much. As your brother, I shouldn't be putting that extra pressure on you by increasing your work – we're supposed to share equally and ease burdens, not increase them."

Nodding to himself, he vows to not make this mistake again. "How about this – I'll take back the rest of my paperwork, if you meet me in my quarters so we can have our chess game?"

"It is acceptable for a First to be burdened with more responsibilities. It is not acceptable for a Captain to be so – you must be able to carry out your essential tasks," Spock replies, and Kirk can't quite tell if it's meant as a response to his apology, or his offer. Shrugging, he decides it doesn't make a difference, anyway – he's going to get what he wants, and fix this.

He wants to clasp Spock's shoulder, but doesn't. Instead, he counters with, "I was told by Dr. Saunders the other day that I'm – and I quote – 'all kinds of awesome.' And she's right, because I've been doing this captain thing for a little while now and I personally think I'm excelling at it. And I definitely know that I'm capable of taking back the rest of my paperwork without getting bogged down by it anymore."

The Vulcan's eyebrow rose at the first sentence, and by the end of Kirk's little speech he can clearly see the humor returning to Spock's eyes. Grinning, not waiting for a response, Kirk walks toward the door, and on to his quarters – knowing that Spock will follow.

Part Two, Chapter Nine