DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters
are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the
creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2010 by Djinn. This story
is Rated R.
Of All the Gin Joints in All the Towns
by Djinn
The bar was full
of cadet red, an annoying place, practically seething with hormones and awash
with the din of voices and music. Chapel walked through, ignoring the cadets
who smiled and beckoned her over, also ignoring those who were more overt in
their interest. One she had to incapacitate with a well-placed hand to a rather
important nerve—knowledge of anatomy: a benefit of being a nurse. Once the
cadet was down, she kept on walking.
She was focused on
one thing and one thing only. The distinguished man with salt-and-pepper hair
sitting at the end of the bar with a redhead in a backless dress. Roger goddamned
Korby: the man she'd joined the Fleet to find after his expedition had gone
missing, only to have him show up a few days after she got her commission, just
slightly the worse for wear. He'd been the victim of a communicator failure and
an ion storm—he'd never gotten where he was going, had crashed on an abandoned
but hospitable moon, and waited with his team for rescue.
"You're a
nurse?" he'd said when they'd met back up, looking horrified that she'd
abandoned her doctoral studies while also appearing a bit titillated by the
uniform.
He looked
titillated now by something else entirely: this abundantly curved woman who'd
been his intern. Just like Chapel had been. Goddamn exactly like Chapel had
been, apparently. Roger cherished his students—the pretty female ones, anyway.
"Roger."
He looked up and
failed to appear even remotely guilty. "Darling."
"This is
where you cheat? A cadet bar? With this bimbo? This is
pathetic."
"Hey!"
the redhead said, her fists coming up as if she had a clue what to do with them
in a fight.
Chapel stared her
down; the fists dropped, then the eyes, too.
She turned back to
Roger. "And don't darling me."
She picked up his
drink and threw it in his face. As he was sputtering, she picked up the
redhead's drink and threw that in his face, too. Then she turned on her heel
and marched back across the bar. Nerve-boy gave her a very wide berth and
called her a not very nice name.
She didn't reply. He
was right: she was a bitch. But it was better than being Roger's dupe.
The Vulcan who'd
told her Roger would be here was waiting at the door. "Two drinks in his
face was, perhaps, a bit much."
"I don't
believe I asked you." She pushed past him and out into the night.
He followed. "You
did not. I am aware of that."
She walked faster,
thinking she could lose him. He looked pretty old, but he kept up easily.
"You're
following me."
"I am."
"Why?"
"Having
successfully severed you from your pre-marital relationship, I wish to
capitalize on your currently single state."
She stopped and
turned to face him. "Is that a joke?"
"No."
"Unbelievable."
She poked him in the chest. "Just who do you think you are, anyway?"
"I am
Spock."
"Funny. Unless
that name's like Smith on Vulcan."
"It is not. It
is, in fact, uncommon."
"So you're Spock?"
He nodded.
"I serve with
Spock. He's not you."
"This is
true. And also not."
She got closer,
tried to see if he'd been drinking, then decided that getting closer was
probably stupid. Although, what Vulcan would let her get this close? "What
do you want?"
"I believe I
already answered that question."
"Oh, right. So you're going to sweep me off my feet?"
"I am
not." He managed to look sheepish. "I have been told I lack somewhat
in matters of romance." He took a deep breath. "I do, however, excel
in sexual activities."
"That's
great. Happy for you. So, who told you that you were a romantic dud?"
"You,
primarily."
"Okay, that's
it. I don't know what game you're playing, but I'm done with it." He
started to talk, and she slapped her hand over his mouth. "No. Obviously
you're deranged. Go be that somewhere else." She stormed off.
"I was
correct about Doctor Korby's extracurricular
activities," he said, sounding almost desperate.
"Bully for
you," she muttered. "Goddamn bully for you."
##
Trying to forget
the annoying Vulcan, Chapel headed for the nearest transporter station. She saw
Jim leaving the building as she walked up, attempted to turn before he could
see her, but he called "Chris" and hurried over to her.
He took one look
at her face and said, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Uh huh. Come
on. Tell Uncle Jim all about it." He glanced past her. "Hey, look who
it is." He waved, and she turned and saw the old guy heading for them. "Spock's
great. Have you met him?"
"I see Spock
every day."
"Oh, no,
that's our Spock. This is the other Spock." Jim seemed comfy with his
rather vague manner of Spock identification, so she didn't comment. He smiled
and waved at the old Vulcan. "Well, hello there."
"Hello."
The Vulcan looked extremely happy—for a Vulcan, which meant slightly less stone
faced. "It is a great pleasure to see you again, Jim."
"Same here. You
know Chris Chapel?"
"In both
realities, yes."
"Huh?" Then
she turned to Jim. "This is the guy who's the reason we all nearly died? This
is that Spock? I thought those were
just urban legends."
This was why she
shouldn't let Leonard be the one to run around the ship during a crisis. She
never learned anything interesting down in sickbay. The injured were, not
unexpectedly, more focused on their pain than on giving her the lowdown. Also,
they tended to be doped up. So when some of them had
mentioned there were two Spocks on the ship, she
hadn't really given it a lot of credence. And then after their initiation
cruise from hell was over, she couldn't get the same story from anyone.
"Starfleet
brass put out some conflicting stories. Didn't want everyone running Spock down
to find out what they were like in a future that may never come for us
now." Jim frowned. "I mean, there'll be a future, just not the one he
comes from. Does that make sense?"
"Barely."
She turned to Spock and saw he was staring at her. "Stop that. It's
creepy."
"Be nice,
Chris. Spock's actually a much easier guy to get along with than our
Spock." He frowned, then smiled at Spock. "Wouldn't it be simpler to
choose another name?"
"It would. I am, however, Spock and I see no reason I should give that
name up."
"We could
just call him jerk?" She smiled bitchily at Spock.
"I believe
you have called me that on numerous occasions, Christine." His look was
fond.
"This one's a
masochist, eh, Chris?" Jim took each of them by the arm—Chapel couldn't
believe Spock allowed it, but he actually seemed happy to be dragged in the
Kirk Wake of Inevitable Destiny or Drunken Bar Fights. Maybe he really was a
masochist.
"We are not
going back to that bar," she said, as Jim pulled them toward the entrance
to Roger's home away from home.
"Something I
should know?" Jim asked.
"She caught her
fiancé cheating here." Spock looked pleased at being Mister Helpful.
"Technically,
he was only having a drink. And I didn't catch him. Spock told me he'd be
here." She thought about that. "So, wait. If you knew what he was up
to, you had to have followed him to find out what he was doing and who he was
with and where they were going?"
"Yes."
"Cree-eepy," Jim said softly. "But probably in the long
run explainable. If you wanted, I bet he could just meld with you, Chris. It's
really efficient when you need a whole lot of questions answered and time's
short."
"I'll
pass." She smiled tightly at Spock. "Time's never going to be that
short. Thanks though."
"I did not
offer. Jim did."
"Oh, so you
don't want to meld with me?"
"I did not
say that. But to use it simply to avoid needless exposition would be
lazy."
"And he'd
have to miss your sarcasm, which, my dear, you've honed to a fine art—or maybe
a deadly weapon." He winked at Chapel. "I love you anyway."
"Do you,
Jim?" Spock's voice rose slightly, as if he truly cared about this. "I
would not wish to usurp a prior claim."
"Oh, God,
here he goes again."
"No, she's
all yours, bud." Jim smiled magnanimously and went to get drinks.
"I do not
drink."
"I think he
knows that. He does, after all, pal around with the other you." She glared
at him.
The look seemed to
make him happy.
Jim was back with
drinks before they were forced to make small talk. "Here, Chris—perfect
for the scorned woman." He handed her about three fingers of something
amber. "Spock, water, of course. No ice."
"Most kind,
Jim."
"Not a
problem." He held his drink up, also three fingers of amber goodness. "To
friends old and new."
Chapel rolled her
eyes.
"Drink,
Chris. That's an order." He winked at Spock, and Chapel suddenly wondered
what exactly Jim had seen in the meld he and Spock had shared.
Probably Spock's
technical proficiency at the sex act. It certainly wasn't his witty repartee.
"Chris..."
She drank.
##
Chapel was stowing
some newly arrived hyposprays when Len came in
whistling from whatever exotic locale he'd spent leave at. He set his bag down
and smiled the smile that could only mean he'd gotten laid and then some.
"Nice time
off, Doctor?"
"Oh, you know
it, darlin'." He grinned. "And how did you spend your weekend at
liberty?"
"First I
found Roger cheating on me and broke up with him."
"Well,
hallelujah. I thought I was going to have to fight him for your honor."
"Would you do
that?"
"Hell,
yes." He winked, but then his expression turned sober. "And I'm
sorry, Christine. That's got to hurt some."
"It does. Which
is why I ended up doing activity number two the rest of the weekend."
"And activity
number two was...?"
"Getting
drunk with Jim and Spock."
His eyebrow
threatened to disappear into his hair. "With Spock?"
"Not our
Spock."
"There's
another Spo—ohhhhhhh. That
Spock. The older Spock? He got drunk?"
"Nope. Just
Jim and I did that. He stuck to water. When he wanted to cut loose, he ordered
orange juice. Extra pulp."
Len laughed. "Vivid
image. Those damn Vulcan pulp addicts."
"I know. We
had to cut him off."
"So how'd you end up with him?" Len leaned against the
wall, arms crossed, clearly in for the long haul.
"It's a funny
story."
"Gotta be. It's got Vulcans." He gave her a sign that
she knew from experience meant to get a move on with the dirt spilling.
"It would
seem that the esteemed Spock senior is...on the prowl."
"I knew
it." Len shook his head. "I told Jim that guy had a thing for
him."
"He's not
after Jim." Although it had been clear he really liked Jim, and she
thought he could probably swing that way with very little provocation. Which
suddenly made her wonder about Spock the younger.
"So he's after...you?"
"Wow, Len,
your faith in my sex appeal is overwhelming."
"You're a
walking, talking sex bomb, little lady. You just haven't attracted any
attention from our Spock so..."
"Our Spock is
busy. With Nyota. Remember?"
"But...they're
the same guy."
"None of us
are the same people exactly." She'd just spent a weekend, with copious
amounts of booze, listening to Spock explain how things had changed for them. Butterflies,
China, she got all that—she even got how things had changed for Jim. His father
dying just after he was born, when in the other reality, his older-other self had known his father. But his father had been on the Kelvin, and the Kelvin had run into the Narada. And the rest...well that was new history.
What she didn't
get was how the appearance of the Narada had changed Roger's expedition outcome. It sure
hadn't changed his choice of bimbos from what Spock had said.
"So, do you
like Spock? Isn't he a gazillion years old?" Len was studying her. "Although
you like the geezers. Roger's no spring chicken."
"I don't have
daddy issues."
"Do,
too." He winked at her. "So...do you? Like him?"
"I don't
know. I barely know him."
"You spent
the weekend with him."
"And with
Jim, too. You aren't asking me if I could go for the captain."
"I don't need
to ask. Everyone, including me, sweetie, could go for the captain." Len
laughed softly, a derisive but honest little sound. "So, you gonna see Spock again?"
"I doubt it. I'm
here. He's on the new Vulcan home world."
"They ever going
to name that damn thing? The new Vulcan home world is a mouthful."
"According to
Spock, they did name it."
"And...?"
"He'd tell
us, but we couldn't pronounce it."
"Cheap cop
out."
"Yep." She
leaned against the counter. "He's very...intense. When he looks at me. I
guess he knew me in that other reality—in the biblical sense, I think."
"Lucky
man." Len gave her a fond smile. "Hey, now that you're free, are we
going to have that friendly, no-strings sex we talk about when we get drunk
after a late and awful shift?"
"No."
"It's that
damned Spock. I officially hate him." Len winked again, then left her to
her task.
She watched him
walk away. The man definitely had a fine back end. And she did so like men in
authority roles—Len had it all wrong about the daddy part; she'd just liked
that Roger had been her boss.
She turned back to
her task. Her relationship with Roger was barely cold. She did not need to
embark on a relationship with this boss.
Not yet, anyway.
##
Chapel walked down
the crowded lane of the market, trying to pick out a birthday gift for Nyota. She
saw a familiar figure walking toward her and stopped.
There was no way
that Spock was here, on this planet, where the Enterprise was on a
day-long shore leave.
"Christine. You
are looking well. I presume you are shopping for Nyota's
birthday?"
"Uh. Yes."
She forced her mouth shut. "I thought you were on the planet whose name we
can't pronounce." And calling it that was actually longer than just saying
the new Vulcan home world.
"I was. I was
adding limited value at this juncture, so I embarked on a venture to which I am
far more suited."
"Stalking
me?"
His mouth actually
turned up. She'd never seen Spock the younger's mouth turn up, not even when
Nyota got in one of her zingers.
"I was
referring to diplomacy."
She looked around
the pristine planet whose sole purpose was to fleece tourists. "Diplomacy?
Here?"
"This planet
was on my way to a negotiation."
"Really?"
He nodded.
"You're a
decent liar, Spock. Who knew?" She started walking the stalls again; he
fell into step with her. "And yes, I'm looking for birthday inspiration. Hey,
here's an idea, you knew her longer: what doesn't she have but really
wants?"
"I may not be
the best judge—did I not explain that circumstances for all of you have
changed, Christine?"
"Yes, you
did. At great length, if I recall."
"I am
somewhat surprised you can recall anything given the amount of alcohol both you
and Jim consumed."
"We didn't
drink in your reality?"
"Generally not together."
"Ooh,
someone's jealous."
He ignored her. "Nyota
would enjoy this," Spock said, walking over to a jeweler's stall and
picking up a long pendant. "She prefers blue stones."
"And you know
this how?"
"I knew her
longer. You said it yourself, did you not?"
She took it from
him; it was beautiful and she knew Ny would love it, but it was out of her
price range. She put it back reluctantly.
"Too
expensive?"
"Yep."
He turned so his
back was to the fellow working the stall and said very softly, "How much
are you willing to spend?"
She named her
price, smirking as she waited for Spock to find out the futility of trying to
bargain with a species who lived to win commercial exchanges.
It took him half
an hour, but he somehow got the man down to the price she'd named. She wasn't
even bored, just stood fascinated as Spock completely controlled the situation.
She had the fleeting thought that if he really was after her, she was utterly
screwed.
"I owe
you," she said as they walked away from the market.
"Allow me to
buy you lunch, then."
"You don't
really get the 'I owe you' concept, do you?"
He almost smiled
again. "As you are short of credits, I assumed you would welcome the
opportunity to eat the local fare, which I am told is quite delicious, with no
negative impact to your financial bottom line."
"Very astute.
But how do you make out from this arrangement?"
"I will enjoy
the pleasure of your company."
"Oooh, smooth." She glanced at him as he led her to
what looked like a very nice local restaurant. "So, did Nyota go for that
back in your time? Or did she teach you that?"
"I was not
with Nyota in my reality."
"Really? Or
are you just saying that so I won't feel like we're two-timing my friend?"
"I am not
just saying that. Spock's relationship with her is one of the things that has
changed, and I do not fully understand why. But I am glad for this Spock that
it has changed. Losing my—his mother will be made more bearable with her love
and support."
"Love. Support.
Very unVulcan things."
"Not if you
truly knew Vulcans, Christine." He waited until the hostess had seated
them, then asked, "You are not close to the other Spock, are you?"
"No. I mean I
like him fine, but I don't know him well."
"Strange. Since
you are close to Nyota."
"It's not
that uncommon to have a gal pal whose boyfriend you don't really know. Add in
the 'he's a Vulcan' factor—and not a Casanova-making, food-paying-for Vulcan
like you—and..."
"Ah, yes. Understood."
A waiter came by,
and they ordered, then Spock sipped from his water glass in what looked like a
case of nerves. "You are friends with Jim, however."
"He's a great
guy."
"More than a
friend?"
"And that is
your business how?"
"I am
curious."
"Not more. Not
yet." She smiled pertly at him, knowing it had to be an annoying look. "And
then there's Len." Who she was still keeping her hands off of, even if it
was difficult. She was trying really hard to break
herself of her "Oh my God, he's the boss and that makes him so hot"
complex. Which was why Jim was also still just a friend.
"You are
involved with Doctor McCoy?" He didn't look at all pleased, but she wasn't
sure how she knew that. His face was as stony as ever.
"He's a cutie
pie."
"He is also
your superior." Spock's brows knit for the briefest of moments. "And
you were involved with Doctor Korby, who was your superior as well."
Wow. Only a few
minutes and Spock was on to her secret obsession. She
smiled blandly and said nothing, but somehow he read
her.
"So you are not involved with Doctor McCoy?"
She shrugged.
"If it would
help my cause for you to be my subordinate, I will speak to Starfleet Command
and have you transferred to my staff."
"Do you even
have a staff?"
"Not as such.
You would be the first and only member of it."
She laughed, a
good, solid laugh. His eyes lightened.
"I'm happy
where I am, Spock, but thanks."
"I suspected
as much."
The waiter came
with their food and they dug into it for a while. Then she asked, "If you
weren't with Ny, how do you know what
she likes?"
"I served
with her for many years. I had occasion to notice what kind of jewelry she
preferred." His brows knit again. "Although, as I was saying earlier,
who is to say that in this reality she enjoys blue stones the way she did in
mine."
"Don't worry.
She does." Chapel smiled at him and realized it was one of her better
smiles, the one she only gave to people she was relaxed with.
He seemed to
realize that; his stony expression was somehow showing satisfaction.
"So are you really a diplomat now?"
"Yes."
"Because
that's your calling?"
"That and it
will allow me to be nearer to you. In fact, I will probably avail myself of the
Enterprise and Jim's hospitality when
I am in need of transport."
"How
convenient. And the fact that there's another version of you on the ship
doesn't bother you in the least?"
He had to think
about that. "It is somewhat unsettling. Also fascinating, seeing if I will
make the same choices. I admit, I have pushed Jim into pursuing a friendship
with him."
"No. You? Pushy?"
Again the lightening in
the eyes, the slight tilt of the mouth. "It is difficult to accept, I
know." He took a deep breath. "You are right that I should probably
stay away from Spock for his sake. But you are on the ship. And I want you. So,
Spock will have to learn to accept my presence." He leaned in, said
softly. "If you are concerned for him, you could request a transfer? Perhaps
to somewhere more convenient for us."
"There is no
us," she said, but she lacked any trace of vinegar in her voice. She went
back to eating, not wanting to see another miniscule trace of triumph in his
expression.
##
The "It's the
End of the Day or the Start of the Night, and We'd Know Which if We Weren't in
Space" party was in full swing. Chapel laughed as she and Nyota swept into
the rec lounge, dressed to kill and then some.
"Wow, there's
a sight you don't see too often," Nyota said, nodding to the bar where
Spock the younger was talking with Spock the older. At least they were drinking
water, not booze, so the universe hadn't flipped on its side completely.
Nyota grinned at
her. "He really is after you."
"I told
you." She studied them. "Although technically, he could be after
Spock."
Nyota laughed.
"No, really. I
mean who knows you better—and what you like—than yourself?"
Nyota pursed her
lips, clearly thinking this over. "I'm very good in bed. I think I would
enjoy fucking myself."
"I think I
would enjoy fucking myself, too."
Nyota suddenly
looked worried. "Let's go interrupt them before they come to the same
conclusion."
"Officer
thinking, Ny."
Before they could
get to the two Vulcans, Jim swooped in, slipping an arm around each of them. "How
are my two favorite girls?"
"Not
girls." Nyota glared at him.
Chapel wasn't sure
she'd mind being his girl. He was the captain, after all, and he had that very
big chair they could—
No. No, she was
not going to screw the captain.
"What are you
thinking about?" Jim asked as he swung them toward the bar.
"Probably
sex. Christine has sex on the brain."
"You haven't
even begun to drink, Nyota, and yet here you are with the honesty." He
winked. "So, little Chrissie..."
She rolled her
eyes. She was an inch taller than him in her heels.
"Tell me all
your fantasies."
"I believe
hearing those is my department, Jim." Old Spock was deftly prying her out
of Jim's arms with the dignity only a Vulcan could show in such situations.
"I didn't say
you could step into that role." She glared at him.
Spock the younger
looked on, clearly fascinated—and a little appalled.
"Yeah, kiddo,
acting like a possessive jerk is your future. Read it and weep," she said,
as older Spock inexorably moved her to the end of the bar. "I was having
fun with my friends."
"Would you
rather be with them?" He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I just acted in a
manner extremely unbecoming a Vulcan. Does that not please you?"
She had to admit
it sort of did. "Mayyyyy-be."
"And I am
prepared to buy you expensive liquor."
"That'll win
you points."
He gestured for
the bartender and ordered a very, very, very expensive brand of Scotch.
"I thought
you said you reeked in the romance department."
"Truthfully,
I do not consider getting you drunk to be romantic."
She laughed. "Who
says I'm going to get drunk?"
"I have
reason to know your capacity for booze—at least in my timeline—so I agree the
odds are actually quite slim." He seemed to be assessing her outfit.
"Checking me
out? Like what you see?"
"Yes." He
leaned in. "So do many of the other men and not a
few of the women in this room."
"You get off
on that, don't you? Having someone other people want?"
"It does
provide an ego boost of sorts. Does that mean I 'have' you?"
"Slip of the
tongue."
He was suddenly
staring at her mouth.
"Quit lusting
after my tongue."
"I remember
it as quite talented."
"Have you been drinking?" She leaned in
and looked at his pupils. "Because I cannot imagine the other Spock saying
something like that."
"That is
because he has no idea what he is missing." He frowned, thinking. "Although
I imagine Nyota is quite skilled as well in that department."
"She
is." She could feel herself blushing. "I mean she thinks she is. How
the heck would I know?" Just because Chapel had blown off nervous pre-test
energy by having stim-fueled sex with Ny did not mean they were an item. Just
because they'd done it a lot. Pre Spock of course. Ny's Spock, not this one.
This one was
watching her, a tilt of his lips indicating he was more than a little
enthralled with the idea of her and Ny.
"Hey"—she
shoved at his chest—"maybe we could make a foursome for goddamned bridge. You,
you, her and me." She slammed back her drink. "You're such a guy."
"Yes. I
am."
She had a feeling
if she reached down she might find out just how much
of one. Ny was always going on about the errr
endowments of the Vulcan male. Or one Vulcan, anyway.
"So, you're
here riding Jim Kirk's taxi service, I take it?"
"I am. He has
most generously offered to take me to my next mission."
She glanced over
at the captain, who looked up and grinned at her, then went back to whatever he
and Len were talking about. They turned so they were facing the dance floor,
leaving her a view of their back sides. Such fine, fine back sides.
"You are
distracted by them."
"Yep." She
smiled up at him. "Just indulging my imagination."
He frowned. "Does
your taste run to multiples? It did not in the past."
She nodded at
them. "Did I have that option in the past?"
"I am not
certain you have it now."
"Well, that's
true." She grinned at him. "I'm just looking. Not that I owe you an
explanation."
"Of course
not." He nodded for the bartender to refill her drink.
"Why are you
doing that?"
"Because I
wish to get you away from the others and seduce you."
"And getting
me drunk is your strategy for success?"
"No, but
enabling you to relax around me would be a significant improvement."
"I'm
relaxed."
"Perhaps
focused on me would be a better way to phrase it." He touched her hand,
his hand moving beneath the bar, where no one would notice.
"I—she was
important to you?"
"Yes."
"But I'm not
her."
"I am aware
of that. However, as I find you charming and beautiful in your own right, this
does not concern me."
"Have you
been in the same conversations I've been in? Charming? I must be
slipping." She winked at him and was startled when he made a low sound,
almost like a laugh being bitten back. "So seduce
me, huh?" It had been a long time. And if he applied this level of
intensity to the actual sex? Well, yowza!
"I am
somewhat acquainted with what you like."
"That might
have changed."
"Perhaps."
His hand moved to her thigh, grasped her firmly. "Or perhaps not."
All she could feel
was his hand. His eyes seemed to bore into her, and she finished her drink in
one desperate gulp.
"Shall we go,
Christine?"
"Oh,
yeah."
He steered her
away from her friends and she laughed.
"Afraid I'll
change my mind?"
"I prefer to
leave nothing to chance."
"How
boring."
He met her eyes;
his were amused, also very black since his pupils were intensely dilated. "On
the contrary."
They were halfway
to the lift when the red alert was announced.
"Goddammit,"
Len muttered as he ran past them. "Way to spoil a perfectly good
party."
"I have to
go." She touched his hand. "You'll be okay?" Stupid question:
he'd probably been though more red alerts than she could even imagine.
"Go. Do your
duty."
She pulled him to
her and planted a big, wet one on him.
He returned it
enthusiastically, other parts of him begging to be included as he pressed
against her.
"Hold that
thought, Spock," she said, and then she hightailed it to sickbay to do her
duty.
##
Exhausted, Chapel
followed Len to the lounge for the "We Kicked Ass" party.
"Your
boyfriend's not joining us?" Len reached back and dragged her into the
lift before the doors closed. "I know you're tired, but hurry it up. I
need a drink, woman."
"I told him
to meet us there." She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
"Seems to me
you're more in the mood for whatever old Vulcans have to offer in their guest
quarters."
"I'm more in
the mood for eight solid hours in a sensory deprivation chamber, but that's not
to be. And don't tell me what I'm in the mood for." Red alerts tended to
make her surly; she probably needed to work on that now that Jim "Never
Met an Alien I Couldn't Tick Off" Kirk was in command.
Spock was waiting
for her, and he eased her away from Len. "Christine, I am holding that
thought as you asked. Shall we go?"
"As sexy as
your attempts to separate me from the herd are, I'm going to have to say
no."
His face fell, if
a Vulcan's face could fall, which of course they couldn't, but she definitely
got the feeling that if he were human, his face would have been about three
decks below them.
"I don't mean
no to you in general. I mean no to going off alone when all my friends,
including you, see"—she pointed to where the other Spock was sitting with
Jim and Ny and Len and Scotty, and Scotty's little bumpy friend who always
tried to feel her up when she was giving him his exams, were sitting—"are
all over there."
"I..."
She grabbed his
arm and jerked him after her. "Other you's
already there so somewhere in that Vulcan body is the capacity to live a
little."
He actually
sighed. But it sounded like a sound of happiness. She glanced back and he
nodded. "She would have said that, too."
"I have to
tell you it's not very flattering that you're after me to recapture her—me—her—whatever."
He seemed to
follow that. "I understand. I would be upset to learn that you were choosing
me because you could not have him." He pointed to the other Spock.
"Never
crossed my mind." His girlfriend, on the other hand...
"That is a
relief."
"Move over,
Len, we're joining you." She knocked Len with her hip.
"God, I live
for these moments, Chapel. But next time just ask." Len scooted over to
the next chair.
Jim winked at
Spock. "Welcome to the table, old friend."
"Thank you,
Jim." Spock glanced at the younger Spock and nodded, got a rather terse
nod back. Probably neither of them was exactly comfy sitting at a table with a
bunch of people about to get drunk.
She took pity on
her Spock, put her hand under the table, found his thigh, and slowly traveled
from the outside to the inside.
He was sitting
very still, suddenly highly at peace.
She moved just a
tad more to the inside and—
Holy shit. Holy
mother-loving shit. Her friend had undersold the size of Vulcan equipment. Chapel
looked at Nyota. Her hand was under the table, too. Her Spock suddenly seemed
very happy to be where he was.
Spock slipped his
hand under the table, covered hers and pushed down. She smiled, and she saw Jim
narrow his eyes as he watched them. Then he grinned and shook his head and
mouthed, "Bad girl."
Spock just sighed
softly and thanked the waiter for the water he brought.
Scotty was looking
back and forth from one Spock to the next. "I have to tell you. I can't
imagine how strange this must be for you two."
"It is
strange," the younger Spock said.
"Yes." Her
Spock gently eased her hand off him, slid it to a safer distance down his
thigh, and threaded his fingers through hers. His hand was very warm, and his
grip light and easy.
"I think it
would be interesting to meet myself." Ny winked at her and she laughed softly.
"Interesting
is funny?" Ny's Spock turned to Chapel. "Explain."
"Oh, I don't
think you want me to."
"Don't be a
dimwit, Spock. They're thinking that it would be fun to meet another version of
themselves so they can see if they're as good in bed as they think they
are." Len laughed. "We've all wondered that."
"We have
not," Young Spock said.
"No."
"And we will
not."
"No."
"I'm just
saying..." Len threw back his drink. "It's only human to wonder. And
last I checked you two were half human."
"That is
beyond our control."
"Yes."
"Well,
there's no doubt you're the same person," Len said, motioning for another
round.
Chapel turned and
shook her head at the bartender. "You ready?" she asked Spock and
smiled when he looked surprised. "I'm tired. I don't need more
booze."
He nodded.
"Okay, then. This
has been fun. We'll see you all tomorrow."
"Don't do
anything I wouldn't do," Jim said with a huge grin.
"That leaves
me a great deal of leeway, Jim." Spock's mouth almost tilted up. "Good
night."
A chorus of good
nights followed them.
"Doctor McCoy
thinks I am too old for you," Spock said as soon as the lounge doors
closed.
"Huh? How did
you arrive at that deduction?" Not that he was wrong, but it still seemed
like a hell of a leap.
"Not a
deduction. He said it once he thought we were out of earshot,
however Vulcan hearing is very acute."
"Oh." She
made a face. "Sorry about that. It's possible he's just a teensy tiny bit
jealous."
"You have
been with him?"
"No. But we
joke around about it."
"Ah." He
shook his head as they walked onto the lift. "In my experience, he often
makes light of that which he cares about the most."
"Yep, that's
my experience, too. Then again he also jokes about
things he doesn't give a shit about. So it's a little
hard to tell the difference most of the time."
"This is
true." He turned to look at her. "Was that a test? To see if I would
spend time with your friends."
"They're your
friends, too."
"No,
Christine. They are the other Spock's friends, and no matter how much I wish it
were otherwise, it will never be."
"I'm
sorry." She wanted to take his hand but settled for pressing him gently as
the lift doors opened to her deck.
"Do not be
sorry. This is how it should be. I am fortunate that you are here and...open to indulging me."
"Indulging? Oh,
buddy, you are going to have to indulge me, too, and more than a little, if I
make myself clear."
His mouth almost
tilted up again. "As I said, the other you had no complaints in that
matter."
"Yeah, but
she might have been faking." She grinned at him to show she was teasing.
"I am a touch
telepath. I can tell the difference, I assure you." He leaned in,
whispered, "I can tell many things that way, if I make myself clear."
"Oh, yes. Crystal."
She palmed her door open, led him inside. "Welcome to Chez Chapel."
"Thank
you."
She palmed the
door shut and studied him. "And for what it's worth, I think Jim is your
friend."
"I manipulated
him into feeling that."
"So? You're
manipulating me into bed, and don't say you aren't."
"We are not
yet in bed."
"A
technicality. We soon will be." She turned the lights down to half
strength. "And didn't you meet Scotty before he met the other Spock?"
"This is
true."
"So I bet he thinks of you as the real Spock."
"This is
possible."
"Okay, then. Don't
let me hear you don't have real friends on this ship."
"I will not
say that again." He pulled her to him slowly, his lips tilting ever so
slightly upward. "Are you finished with your pep talk?"
"Are you
going to kiss me if I say yes?"
"Indeed."
"Are you
going to rip my clothes off with your teeth and make mad passionate love to
me?"
"The latter—although
I do not intend to lose my sanity during this—but not the former."
"No
teeth?"
"Not on your
clothes, at any rate." He did smile, just a baby one, but it was
definitely a smile. "Is the pep talk finished?"
"Yes."
He pulled her in
and kissed her. She expected tentative. Maybe a bit rusty after years alone. Furtive,
possibly. Prudish also a possibility.
He was none of
those things. His kiss was amazing. Strong, but not messy. Tongue used in the
best way.
She felt her
uniform being tugged off and heard a fastener give way. "I thought you
weren't going to rip off my uniform."
He captured her
lips in his teeth and bit down very gently, then let go. "I did not say
that. I said I would not use my teeth to do it."
She laughed, and
laughed again as he picked her up and tossed her on the bed. She landed smack
in the middle, and smiled as he removed his robe swiftly and let it drop to the
floor—she'd have bet money he'd be a "fold 'em
up before you move on" type of guy, but nope.
"You—she
hated it when I wasted time on being neat."
"I don't
disagree." She held out her hand. "But could we not talk about her
while we're naked?"
"Agreed."
He joined her on the bed, lay back and let her get to know his body.
Not a young body. Skin
not taut, although one part of him was plenty damn taut, thank you very much. She
grabbed said part and watched him rest his head back and close his eyes as his
breathing quickened.
He wasn't young. But
he wasn't unattractive. And he was definitely enjoying what she was doing. The
little un-Vulcan like grunt-moans were an indication of that.
"Hey,
buddy?"
He opened his
eyes.
"I'm doing
all the work here."
"I was
curious how long it would take you to comment on that." He pushed her to
her back, kissed her for a long time, then slid down, kissing his way all the
way down to the mother lode and—holy crap, he was good with that tongue.
She felt boneless
when he finished and she murmured, "I love that telepathy thing."
"It is
useful, is it not?"
"Mmmmm."
He lay next to
her, caressing her for several minutes, then he said softly, "I believe
the effort expended here is overwhelmingly in my favor."
"Yeah,
yeah." She opened an eye and winked at him.
Again the baby smile.
"What would
you like, Ambassador?"
"I would like
you on top of me immediately."
"Oh, fine, if
you insist." She roused herself enough to crawl on top of him, nearly
gasped when she settled down on him—so damn much of him. "Good Vulcan
craftsmanship. Can't beat it."
He seemed to get
what she meant, his lips ticked up and his eyes glinted in a way that made him
look very pleased with himself.
Then she lost all
thought as she rode him, as he steadied her as she went faster and harder, as
she gasped out something incoherent when she came, as he called out her name as
he followed her. She collapsed on his chest, heard him give a slight
"Oomph."
"Sorry."
He wrapped his
arms around her, kissed her forehead. "No, it is all right."
"Just all
right?" She started to laugh.
"More than
all right, and I think you know that." He eased her off him, moved her to
his side and somehow managed to get the covers pulled down and them underneath
without making her get up.
"You're very
good."
"I told you
that."
"Mmmm." It came out half word, half laugh. "I'm
beat, Spock."
"I imagine
you are." He tipped up her chin, kissed her thoroughly. "Good night,
my dearest."
"I'm not your
dearest, Spock. That was her."
She thought she
saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes, then he kissed her again. "You are
right. I should not call you that."
"Yet. You
should not call me that yet." She pulled him back and kissed him lazily.
When they finally
pulled away, he said, "Good night, Christine."
"Good night,
Spock."
##
"So, what
should we do tonight?" Jim asked as he led her off the shuttle. "And
where the hell's Spock?"
"How did you
get invited along on our date?"
"I didn't. So
what?" His face brightened. "Spock. Over here."
She smiled as she
saw a familiar tall figure coming toward them. "Spock."
"Christine."
His eyes gleamed in the shuttleport light.
"Wow, you
could cut that sexual tension with a butter knife, kids." Jim took their
arms the same way he had the night she'd found Roger cheating. "I have an
hour to kill before a certain alien princess is released from her charm
classes. You don't mind me killing it with you, do you?"
Spock glanced past
Jim at her. She could see how much he wanted this friend back in his life.
"Oh,
fine." She put her head on Jim's shoulder. "But you're seriously
cutting into our naked time."
"I'll make it
up to you."
"To both of
us?" Spock had a note of humor she'd never heard in his voice. "And
how, exactly."
"Wouldn't you
like to know, old friend." Jim winked at him. "He's a wild one,
Chris. Run for your life."
"I'll risk
it." She glanced at Spock and saw his lips quirk. "He's my wild
one."
His lips quirked
even more. Who knew he was such a sap?
"Now that's
true love." Jim let them go and led them into the cadet bar.
"I hate this
place."
"I know. Me,
too. But it's cool when we're here."
She glanced at Spock.
"Was he this cocky in your reality?"
Spock nodded. "This
may, in fact, be him restrained."
"Shit, no
kidding?" She bumped up against him. "I've missed you, by the way. I
thought you were going to ride back with us?"
"I fully
intended to. But the mission ended sooner than expected, and I was needed for
another negotiation on Earth."
"My
loss."
"No,
Christine, I assure you it was mine."
"Oh, hell, it
was a mutual loss, you lovesick pups." Jim slapped Spock on the back. "Let's
go find a table."
She followed them
as they maneuvered their way uncannily through the crowd in the bar. They made
a hell of a team—she could see why Spock loved this man. Even if he'd never
categorize it that way. She liked to boil things down to their simplest terms: love,
hate, want.
"Christine?"
She turned and saw
Roger's little intern behind her. Perfect example of hate. "You don't want
to talk to me."
"No, I do. I
want to apologize. I thought—I thought it was true love. But he used me. And
then I found him with another intern."
"Did you
happen to kill him or make him an android?"
The woman shook
her head. "I slapped him. Will that work?"
"Not as
well."
"Sorry."
Christine gave the
woman a quick hug—girl power and all that. "Don't sweat it. You'll find a
lot better guy than Roger. Just shake it off and keep moving."
She wasn't one
hundred percent sure the girl was understanding. "Were you acing his
classes?"
"Oh, no. I was
doing terrible in them. He was always having to help me. I'm not sure why he
picked me to be an intern."
"No. Of course you're not. Okay, well my friends are"—she
glanced around, couldn't see them—"somewhere in here. So
I'm going to go. You take care, all right."
"Thank you. You
know you're not at all the cold, uptight bitch he said you were."
"Thanks
loads."
"Okay. Bye."
The girl was waylaid by horny cadets before she took three steps.
Two other cadets
tried to cut Chapel off at the pass. One of them looked familiar.
"Oh,
you," he said and backed off slowly.
"What's his
problem?" the other one asked. "I'm just interested in buyi—oh, shit, are you with him?"
She turned to see
Jim bearing down on her and smiled as she said, "Yep." For another
hour or maybe more—alien princesses weren't known for their punctuality.
"Chris, we're
over here."
She let him pull
her along, saw Spock carrying drinks to a table in the corner. "You've got
him so whipped, Jim."
"I know,
isn't it great?" He grinned at her, and there wasn't a trace of malice in
it. Spock was so wrong if he thought this man wasn't his friend. "She was
being hit on by cadets, Spock. You need to watch her."
"I will bear
that in mind."
She took a sip of
her drink and smiled. It was the very, very, very expensive Scotch she loved.
"Damned hard
on the credit line, too," Jim said with a wink. "Not sure she's worth
it."
"She is more
than worth it, old friend." Spock was rubbing her thigh gently, his
expression giving nothing away to anyone watching.
"Lovesick,
I'm telling you." Jim leaned back in his chair and smiled. "It's good
to be on Earth."
"Is it?"
Jim nodded. "I
love space, don't get me wrong. But there's something to be said for solid
ground under your feet."
"Fascinating.
The Kirk of my time had no use for solid ground."
"Well, as
you've told me more than once, I'm not that Kirk." He nodded at Chapel. "Just
as she's not that Christine." His eyes narrowed and he glanced at her. "Isn't
that sort of weird, being his girlfriend...again?"
"Is it weird
being his friend again?"
"First time
for me." He raised his glass before she could reply. "Understood,
Chris." He met Spock's eyes. "Weird for you, though. Has to be."
"A bit. But
weird has never been a stranger."
"That would
make a great band name. 'Ladies and Gentleman, please give it up for Weird Has
Never Been a Stranger!'"
She laughed, Spock
looked confused, and Jim did some impromptu air guitar on his leg.
"What the
hell are you doing?" Len sat down in the spare chair. "Where's your
damned alien princess?"
"Primping or
something, how the hell should I know?"
Len took in Chapel
and Spock. "Hello to you two."
"Wow,"
Chapel said, "you're surly."
"He needs
alcohol and a sexual partner."
They all stared at
Spock.
"Or he would
have in my reality."
"Alrighty,
then," Jim said, clearly trying not to laugh. When Len glared, he said,
"What? He's not wrong, now is he?"
Len muttered
something about roommates who didn't know when to keep their mouths shut.
Chapel leaned in
and whispered, "Let's go," to Spock. He rose as she did and she said,
"Jim, you have company now. We're going to start our date, if you don't
mind?"
"I do mind. You're
leaving me here with him."
"Yeah, well,
that's why you're the captain." She winked at him. "I'll see you back
on the ship."
"Good night,
old friend." Spock nodded at Len. "Good night, Doctor McCoy."
"Spock."
She took a deep
breath once they were outside the bar. He moved very close to her, and they
walked for a while. "I feel guilty. Do you think his alien princess will
take long?"
"Christine, I
find myself strangely callous as to her ETA."
She laughed. "Yeah?"
"Yes. I have
secured luxurious rooms at a hotel in Paris. I would like to transport there
immediately."
"I've always
wanted to go to Paris."
"Yes, I
know."
"I thought we
weren't going to talk about her."
"You
stipulated when were naked."
She nodded. "Okay,
just making sure you were listening."
"I am an
adept listener."
"Let's get
going, then." She felt warm and happy at the thought of seeing Paris. "You're
going to order me croissants and cafe au lait for breakfast, right?"
"If that will
make you happy."
She sighed. Then
she frowned. "Wait a minute. How can you afford this?"
"Some things
have not changed from my reality. Certain investments have proven
profitable."
"That is so
bad of you."
"On the
contrary, it is eminently logical. I do not have to be a burden to my people. I
can afford to work for the Federation on a pro bono basis. And you have
expensive tastes and I know this. Our future happiness will be more probable if
I can afford to give you nice things and take you nice places."
"I don't have
expensive tastes, Spock."
"Another
thing that has changed, then. I have no doubt, however, that you will learn to
appreciate the finer things."
"And who
wouldn't?" Like she was very happy to use the VIP line in the transporter
station. And not sorry to see a very pretty box from an expensive lingerie
store waiting for her in the hotel room.
He could spoil
her. She wouldn't complain.
She walked over to
the window, stopped and stared at the spectacle of nighttime Paris laid out
before them.
"It is
beautiful, is it not?"
"It is."
More than she'd even imagined.
He wrapped his
arms around her waist as they stood there, pressed back to front, and he kissed
her neck as she watched the lights twinkle.
"Thank you,"
she whispered. "This means...this means so much."
"I can bring
you to lovely cities. I can shower you with gifts if that is what you wish. But
there is much I cannot offer you, Christine." He sounded
uncharacteristically somber.
She turned in his
arms, studied him, then she rubbed up against him. "There's clearly much
you can."
"Still. You
are young. You may get tired of being with a man who could be your
grandfather."
"Or I may
not."
"What Jim
said is not wrong. You are not my Christine. Perhaps I should have left you
alone."
"Are you
breaking up with me in Paris? Because shouldn't you wait to do this until after
I've had a chance to model the new lingerie?" She pulled him to her and
kissed him quickly, keeping it light. "You're just jealous because you
don't have an alien princess, aren't you?"
"Yes, that is
it precisely." His expression softened, and he stroked her face. "This
is confusing for me."
"I
know." She pushed him to the bed and began to unfasten her clothes. "Fortunately
for you, this part isn't. Now hand me that box."
With a glint in
his eye and a slight quirk of his lips, he ripped the top of the box off.
With his teeth.
FIN