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 is copyright (c) 2000 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG.

Two Characters in Search of a Drink

by Djinn

 

The woman was sitting at a table when he walked in. Her hair was half down, the front loose and long around her face. The back was still in an elaborate updo that she was quickly dismantling. She added several pins to a growing stack on the table.

He took the seat opposite her. She barely glanced at him. The waitress came over and he looked at what the woman was having, wrinkling his nose at her choice of a carbonated beverage. "Jack and Ginger," he requested. The waitress nodded and left.

The woman looked up as if she just realized he had arrived. "So they finally let you go?"

He scooted an empty chair closer, put his feet up on it. "Yep. I'm free. The bitch finally went to bed." The waitress set his drink in front of him. He caught her arm as she tried to leave. "Bring me another of these, sweetheart. I'll be done with this one in no time."

The woman looked at him with distaste. "Must you do that?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Do what?"

"The same thing you do every time we go somewhere. Drink too much, get obnoxious, sing kareoke."

"No kareoke here." He looked around. "Hey they have darts though. Wanna take me on." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"In your dreams, Vulcan."

"Half-Vulcan. Why does everyone seem to forget that?"

"Because your human half is so irritating maybe?"

He drained his drink. "I like it. I like my human half. Completely unfair the way she makes me behave. Like some kind of robot. I mean I'm a human too for god's sake. Why would anyone in their right mind embrace that stale lifestyle?"

She looked at him unmoved. "Oh, perhaps because they had a modicum of class?"

He laughed. "Oh yeah, like you like your men with class."

"Actually I do. That's why I really don't like you, Spock."

He clutched at his heart. "Ah, Chrissie, you wound me."

"Look just because she had me fall in love with you doesn't mean that I really feel that way. Any more than you act a bit like the character she writes for you."

"I am the character," he said.

"Oh sure. One minute you're acting just the way she makes you. Then, when she isn't looking, you revert to this persona that is apparently the real you. Ick."

"Well that's your opinion, I guess." He got up, wandered over to the jukebox. "Got a quarter, hon?"

"No."

He reached into his pocket and fished out some coins. "Hey look, I do after all. Oh here's a good one."

The strains of a popular melody came over the speaker. He struck a Fred Astaire pose, held out his hand to her, "Come on Chrissie, dance with me."

"Why?"

"Because I love you, that's why."

"Would you stop saying that. I've told you before, I'm not going out with you."

He sat down, laughing at her. "You're just jealous because I have more lines."

"I'm just jealous that you have a character."

"So do you."

She shook her head, "No sir, I don't. I am a foil. I am there to show how totally inhuman you are. To be everywoman. I have no other motivation, interests, hobbies. I am a one dimensional construct."

"Well just because you aren't the most complex character ever written is no reason to take it out on me." He sulked briefly, until the waitress brought him another drink.

"Not complex? If I were any less complex I wouldn't exist."

"Chrissie, you get to love *me.* Can that be so bad."

"Not if you were like you were when she is writing you. But the real you is so, so..." she stopped to search for the word.

"Sexy?" He offered. "Irresistible? Overwhelming? Gorgeous?"

"Irresponsible. Cheap. Annoying. Vain." She countered, pulling another pin out of her hair.

"Well, babe, when you got it..."

"Oh please. You're a Vulcan. No Vulcan would say 'when you got it dot dot dot'!"

"As I keep pointing out. I'm half human. And have I mentioned that this half human is really liking the way you look tonight."

"Is sex all you ever think about?"

He pondered her question for a moment, "No. I think about drinking. I think about sleeping in and Manchester United Soccer. I know my Mom wasn't English, but god what a team."

"You are a waste of good air."

"Ouch." He watched as the bartender left to take the trash out. Looking around for the waitress and not finding her, he rushed to the bar and poured himself another drink.

"God, you are loathsome. I really wish she'd find me another love interest."

Spock drained his drink. Still alone at the bar he poured himself another drink then walked back to his chair. Kicking his feet back up and nearly missing the chair, he looked over at her. "Oh like who? McCoy?"

"That sadist?? I don't think so."

"Scotty?"

"Please. The man is an incompetent bungler with a fake accent."

"Chekov?"

"He likes men."

Spock looked surprised, "Really? I didn't know that. Fascinating."

She was sorry she had said anything when she realized that he was filing the information away for future use. Christine saw the waitress walk back in. She held up her now empty glass of soda and watched as the woman poured her another drink.

"I've got it, Sulu!"

"He's a pacifist monk. Don't you ever pay attention to what's going on around you?"

"Apparently not. Ok. Then how about Uhura. That's why you dodge all my advances. You like women!"

"Wrong again, Spock. Aren't you forgetting someone?"

"No way."

"Oh yeah."

"Kirk?"

"Kirk."

He looked perturbed. "He's a womanizing blowhard that is only in love with his ship."

"Sure he is, just like you are an intelligent and dignified example of the Vulcan race." Spock stuck out his tongue at her. "For your information, Jim happens to be a sensitive and caring man."

"And you're in love with him?"

"I am."

Spock drained his glass, got up, stalked over to her chair. She ignored him until he pulled her up violently and began to kiss her passionately. She struggled and finally kneed him hard in the groin. He leaned over, gasping violently. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because you disgust me and if you touch me again so help me..."

A tap-tap sound filled the bar. Christine looked around wildly. Her hair was suddenly back in the woven bun. She felt her gaze turn to Spock with adoration.

He gazed back with disinterest, cold and emotionless and unattainable.

As they were called back to the ship, Christine muttered to herself. "I hate it when she has insomnia."

FIN