Author's Note: Okay, I'll add this in because some people expressed some concerns in their reviews. Spock would not be this overt in 'Home', no, he's usually more even-tempered. Even though some of these oneshots take stuff from 'Home', they aren't meant to have an effect on that story, which I apply much more care to, because humour isn't the main goal. On that note, however, if it helps, imagine this is like a week before Pon Farr.

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Sulu had volunteered to host Game Night in his quarters for two reasons. The first was that he had a kind of maybe tiny bit of hero-worship for Captain Kirk (who had jumped off of a mining rig and nearly plummeted to his death in an attempt to save his life). The second was that he liked the majority of the command crew, and hosting Game Night meant being invited to Game Night, which meant socializing with people other than Chekov. Who was also present, but had ensconced himself between Uhura and Dr. McCoy, and was busily trying to divine whether or not the two were starting up a torrid love-affair based on the unfriendly glances they kept shooting one another.

They were playing Cardassian Pinochle. Sulu was pretty sure that not even Commander Spock was entirely clear on who was winning. Prior to that evening, he hadn’t known that it was possible to play a form of Pinochle with more than four people, but apparently the Cardassians had worked it out. Nevertheless, the evening had passed cheerfully. Sulu had learned that Uhura collected African cultural relics, much in the same manner he went in for ancient weapons. Dr. McCoy had shown some pictures of his daughter’s last birthday party. Everyone was joking and laughing, and the captain had spent the majority of the evening making ‘subtle’ passes at his first officer, much to the chief medical officer’s vocal dismay.

After a few minutes of this, though, Kirk turned to Sulu. “Hey, are those Rigellian spore flowers?” he asked, tipping his head towards the pot behind the helmsman. Surprised, Sulu nodded, and on impulse, turned and picked up the round clay container full of very tiny green blooms.

“I’m surprised you recognize them,” he said, putting them on the table for the captain’s inspection.

Kirk nodded absently, grinning. “My mom used to try and grow them. I always remember the smell,” he explained. “She never did as good a job with them, though. These are nice.”

Sulu preened a bit under the praise, and for the next long while, the captain diverted his attention to the flowers, smiling and examining them between turns. No one was paying much attention to the commander. He’d gone quiet, but that wasn’t exactly unusual for him. Kirk kept up a soft conversation on the complications of growing spore flowers onboard a ship until, after some time had passed and he was laughing at some comment or another of Sulu’s, Commander Spock extended a questioning hand.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing towards the spore flowers.

Nodding, Sulu handed them over. The first officer took the pot in silence, examining it carefully and turning it over in his hands.

And then, to everyone’s surprise, he dropped it.

There was a crash as the pottery broke and the flowers scattered. All eyes turned to where it had broken in quiet shock.

Sulu gaped.

Spock looked at the decimated houseplant. “My apologies,” he said. “I appear to have suffered a momentary bout of clumsiness. I shall endeavor to replace them for you the next time we are at spacedock.”

At that, everyone turned their shocked gazes to Spock himself.

It was generally agreed upon that a clumsy Vulcan was a universal impossibility.

Poor Sulu was only snapped out of his trance when Chekov started clapping.