|Of Chocolate and Motorcycles
Author: Chicapanzy PM
Alcohol has no affect on Vulcans; chocolate on the other hand is another story. Spock gets a crash course in hangovers after a party during shore leave on Earth. Pre-Kirk/Spock with slashy tidbits.Rated: Fiction K - English - Spock & J. Kirk - Chapters: 2 - Words: 6,749 - Reviews: 31 - Favs: 38 - Follows: 41 - Updated: 11-07-09 - Published: 11-03-09 - id: 5485900
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Spock's head was splitting when he woke up. The light that shined into his room might as well have been sharp blades the way it stabbed at his aching head. The hand he raised to block out the sunlight did little to ease the pain as the sun insisted on being bright and shiny that morning. What he would have given for a dark stormy morning to wake up to.
The clock across the room from him flashed the current time. 4:28 Pacific Standard Time. So it wasn't morning, but was in fact late afternoon. That would explain why the sun was so bright.
The inside of Spock's mouth was extremely fuzzy in texture. His face scrunched up at the foul taste in the back of this throat. When he focused on the offending flavor, he found the answer to his unspoken question as to the root of his ill health.
Through the fog of what seemed to be a hangover, he recounted his last memories. The Enterprise returned briefly to Earth. There was a gathering at the Academy. Uhura batted her eyes and hung loosely off of him. Kirk repeatedly swaggered over to him and unsuccessfully attempted to deliver pickup lines to him. He recalled their last interaction before the memories began to get murky:
"Hey Spock, drink this!"
Spock looked down at the strange drink in Kirk's hand. "What is it?"
"It'sa milkshake! Taste it, it's delicious!"
The skeptical look on Spock's face persuaded him to explain further. "Look, it's harmless! There's no alcohol in it, I know how you don't care for it. It's just a frozen sweet Earth drink consisting of milk and ice cream! Go on, try it! I even gave you a straw!"
"Jim," Kirk interrupted. "The name is Jim, Spock!"
Spock sighed. "Jim, I will not drink this 'milkshake' as you call it."
"Then I'm not leaving."
"No! I'm not leaving until you drink it!"
They engaged in a staring contest before Spock took the drink from his hand. In his haste to be rid of the irritatingly drunk man that he drank the entire thing without asking any further questions as to its ingredients. It was indeed a very delicious and enjoyable drink, though colder than he would have preferred. A shooting pain seared between his eyes from the intense coldness of the drink.
Kirk, like anyone else would have, laughed at Spock's pain. He put a hand on his back and said, "Spock man, you're not supposed to down a milkshake! You're supposed to sip it! That's why I gave you the straw!"
The pain soon faded from Spock's skull, but he found that he was very lightheaded. He blinked rapidly and then looked at the grinning blonde man next to him. Slowly a smile curled on his lips, much to Kirk's surprise.
"That drink…a milkshake you called it?" Kirk nodded. "Where do I obtain another like it?"
Kirk directed Spock to a table that had a blender, several gallons of various ice cream flavors, and milk cartons on top of it and winked at the pretty girl behind it. "Lola! Fix Mr. Spock here another milkshake like the one you just fixed!"
The busty blonde nodded and winked back at Kirk before preparing another milkshake for the Vulcan. Kirk grabbed a blue straw and stuck it into the glass as he handed it to Spock. Giving another lightheaded smile, Spock proceeded to sip one of many chocolate milkshakes.
Things after that point got extremely fuzzy and trying to think about it made his head hurt even more. He pressed the heel of his palms on his temples to try and ease the pain. As he did so, he noticed that the ends of his bangs were not as tidy as they were that night. Vulcan hair didn't grow that fast overnight – how long had he been out for?
He threw back the rumpled covers of his bed and staggered across the room to look in the mirror. The sight before him was alarming. Not only was his hair noticeably longer than it was before, but his face was also covered in a fine crop of stubbly facial hair. His eyes were green rimmed and his skin was even paler than usual. If it weren't for his memory of the party, he'd have thought he had come down with an illness.
When he looked down he saw that he was still wearing the same uniform from that night. It was now extremely wrinkled and clung to him in spots where his body had excreted sweat in his sleep.
He placed a hand on his head and swayed in place. Apparently he was still feeling the effects of the chocolate in his system. Judging by the amount of cocoa in each drink, the drink must have been made with dark chocolate. If he were an Earth canine, he probably would have killed himself fifty times over.
'Wait,' he thought to himself through the fog. 'My room at the Academy does not have a mirror.'
He looked around him and observed his surroundings. The room he stood in was indeed not the room he was staying in at the Academy. In fact, it didn't look like any of the rooms in the Academy. The walls were painted a soft eggshell color, the bed he had been sleeping on had floral printed bed sheets, and the carpet beneath his feet was a rich brown. The dresser which the mirror was attached to was made of mahogany and decorated with framed photographs of a woman and two young boys.
Spock picked up one of the pictures that was more recent and immediately recognized Jim Kirk standing with his arm around his mother. Eyes wide, Spock barely managed to put the picture back on the dresser without dropping it. His mind whirled as he tried to fathom his situation.
What was he doing in Kirk's mother's house?!?
It was the note on the nightstand closest to the door that held the answers for the confused Vulcan. He stumbled over to it, somehow avoiding tripping over his own two feet which now seemed ridiculously large, and picked it up. In surprisingly neat handwriting, it read:
By the time you read this, you'll probably have been out for a few days. I guess I should have looked up the fact that chocolate has an intoxicating effect on Vulcans before the party.
Still, it was a blast watching you let loose for once. Now I know if I want you to get the redwood dislodged from your ass I just need to slip a little chocolate into your diet. I've made sure to note that in my private logs, though I doubt you need to know that.
Anyway, since your blackout from the chocolate overdose was partially my fault, I couldn't just throw you in your room at the Academy and leave you there for the rest of shore leave so I brought you to my mom's home in Iowa. Let me tell you, transporting a 'drunk' Vulcan on my motorcycle is no easy task.
Speaking of which, if when you wake up I'm not in the house and you need to clear your head, I'm leaving the keys to my motorcycle in the draw of this nightstand. If you need a change of clothes, some of my old clothes are in the dresser. You're not too much taller than me so they should fit well enough.
Hope you wake up soon; you wouldn't want to miss the entire shore leave because you're hung-over!
Spock's eyes closed in silent frustration. He wanted to kick himself for his lack of judgment during the party, but more than that he wanted to pummel Kirk for badgering him about drinking the chocolatey death trap in the first place. There was no helping it though; he was the one who chose to consume the drink in the end and it was truly himself he had to blame, not Kirk. Kirk had at least been kind enough to keep him in a place where he could be watched over. With as much chocolate as he had consumed, it was a wonder he hadn't shocked his system.
His head continued to swirl as he stood. Deciding that sitting back down on the bed was a better choice, he lowered himself down onto the bed. He covered his eyes with his hand and enjoyed the slight ease in dizziness and pain. It was hard to get his brain to function when it felt like several ice picks had been imbedded in his skull. If this was what it was like for humans to have a hangover, it was increasingly illogical how often they desired to consume enough alcohol to bring one on.
The complexities of being human once again escaped him.
He reread the letter and let the words on the thin white paper soak into his brain through the haze. Whether it was the curiosity of his human side leaking through the cracks or the logic of his Vulcan side being weakened Spock was unsure, but something about riding on Kirk's motorcycle seemed like a good idea. Kirk had gone on and on about how exhilarating riding on it was and how all the cares that weighed him down flew behind him in the dust his bike kicked up. Spock had a chance to experience that first hand and become that much closer to understanding the human condition and, inevitably, his captain.
Rising from the bed, Spock moved to the dresser and pulled out a white T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a pair of socks. When he saw the folded white briefs, he realized he was in quite a pickle. On the one hand, he couldn't just put on clothes without underwear, but on the other hand, he'd be putting on his captain's underwear, which just seemed, well, weird.
He took a deep breath and grabbed a pair of the white underwear. Either choice he made would seem wholly inappropriate, but considering everything he was putting on was Kirk's, it didn't really make much difference. He might as well be comfortable if he had to wear clothes that weren't his.
Clothes in hand, he walked down the hall and entered the bathroom. He felt much like a banana as he proceeded to peel the sticky clothing off of his body before stepping into the hot water that spewed from the shower head. The shower was so wonderful Spock almost didn't get out. His shower was overly long by his standards, but with no one around to witness it, it'd be his little secret.
All clean, he came out of the shower, dried himself off and dressed himself in the clothes he found. He took his towel and wiped off the steamed up mirror to gaze at his reflection once more. With some of the fog clearing from his mind, he was able to truly examine his current state.
Aside from the pointed ears and his upward slanted eyebrows, Spock looked more human now than he ever had. Though he felt uncomfortable in such a state of disarray, he could see that there was something somewhat attractive about his appearance. A hidden facet of his personality seemed as though it was trying to make its way out of him through the long uneven bangs and the prickly hair on his face.
Shrugging with his eyebrows, he went back to the room, sat down on the bed, and put his boots on over his now clean feet. Once both boots were on his feet he rose from the bed and began walking out of the room. Before he could leave, a jacket in the open closet caught his eye. He walked over to the closet and pulled the jacket out. It was a black leather coat similar to what he had seen Kirk wear on occasion. Upon closer inspection he found it was in fact the leather coat Kirk was so fond of.
Knowing the jacket served as a means of protection from the wind during high speed travel, he put the jacket on and zipped it up carefully. The man staring back at him in the mirror across from him looked nothing like him as he knew himself, but was still rather striking. Before he knew it he found himself turning in the mirror, admiring his appearance. Mid pose, he caught himself and slapped his arms back to his side.
Shaking his head violently, he grabbed the keys in the night stand and made his way down the stairs and out the door. In the back of his mind he knew he needed a helmet for additional protection, but also knew that the reckless young captain would have no such thing handy. Sitting in the driveway of the Iowan farm house was Kirk prized motorcycle, lonely and unoccupied. Spock hopped onto the bike, put the keys in the ignition and turned the key.
The roar of a lion was not nearly as magnificent as the sound of the bike's engine as it came to life. Spock's heart skipped a beat. He had never ridden such a machine before and it was already proving to be a unique experience. Taking a deep breath, he backed the bike out of the driveway and sped off.
His speed was cautious at first. There were no speed limit signs anywhere since he was deep in the countryside, but that didn't mean he could simply zoom off to his death minutes after beginning his first drive. The more distance he put behind him, the more courage he gathered. The needle on the speedometer slowly cranked higher and higher as he gained speed.
His heart raced as the countryside blurred past him. The wind whipped his short hair up and behind him. His eyes became teary from the cold evening air that blew mercilessly into his face. As he tore down the dusty country roads, he felt like he was flying through the sky like a bird.
On the horizon the bright sun that had brought him agony not long ago now set the sky afire with bright oranges, hot pinks, and deep purples. The few wisps of clouds that were scattered in the dusk sky added even more color to the sky above him. This was nature at its best; this was planet Earth.
At some point Spock managed to change his direction back toward the farm house. From the look of the sky, Kirk would surely be back sometime soon if he wasn't already. If Spock was missing by the time Kirk returned to the room, it was likely Kirk would become worried. Familiar scenery appeared before him as he made his way back. The sky was growing darker and darker. The hints of stars began to twinkle above him. He had to hurry.
By the time he returned to farm house the stars were dotting the sky above him at an alarming rate. The junky truck Kirk's mother insisted on driving was in the driveway when he slowed to a stop. He had been gone too long.
The front door opened and a warm light streamed out into the darkness. Standing in the doorway was Kirk, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.
The sight of him leaning against the doorway with his legs crossed was strangely comforting to Spock. It felt as if coming back to him in such a manner was a normal everyday occurrence he had yet had the pleasure of enjoying. Spock tried to push this thought out of his mind as he dismounted the motorcycle, but the chocolate that still lingered in his system and mixed with the adrenaline from the ride he just returned from made it difficult.
"Have a good ride?" Kirk asked nonchalantly.
Spock straightened out the jacket he wore and casually replied, "Yes, I did. I found it to be quite tranquil. I feel much more at ease after driving through the countryside and observing the state you once lived in."
"Beautiful isn't it?" Kirk asked with a smile. "One of my favorite things to do when I come home is ride out on the road at sunset. Did it clear out some of the four day old smog from your mind?"
The slanted eyebrows on Spock's face touched his hairline. "I was unconscious for four days?"
Nodding, Kirk replied, "Yeah. Well, mostly. You woke up for just long enough to go to the bathroom or drink some water when I brought it."
He chuckled. "No surprise that you had no appetite at all."
Spock's eyes fell to the ground. He remembered absolutely nothing about the time he was unconscious, a feeling that disturbed him greatly. Kirk saw the look on his face and gave the Vulcan another smile. Clomping down the steps, he took Spock's wrist and placed it onto his face. Spock looked at Kirk with wide eyes, unsure as to why he had done this until he felt the flood of memories from the past few days.
Everything he had missed from the last four days, including his actions at the party, bombarded his brain.
When the memories finished their playback before his eyes, he removed his shaking hand from Kirk's face. Green from the neck up, Spock said in a tiny voice, "I am extremely sorry for my behavior Captain."
"Don't 'Captain' me," Kirk said crossing his arms, this time out of irritation instead of playfulness. "You're staying in my mother's home on shore leave; you call me 'Jim' here, not 'Captain'."
"Jim," Spock said, obediently using Kirk's first name, "regardless of my unanticipated heavy consumption of chocolate laced frozen dairy drinks, there is no excuse for the way I acted while under the influence. Please tell Lieutenant Uhura…"
"…don't worry about her," Kirk cut Spock off. "When I told her you had drank several chocolate milkshakes she forgave you instantly. Me on the other hand, I'm lucky my head is still attached. It's not my fault I didn't know what chocolate does to Vulcans."
"Even so, I did not intend to…"
"…kiss me and profess your deep rooted lustful love for me?" he laughed. "Just chalk it up to a bad experience Spock. It happens to the best of us when we drink too much."
Kirk was playing the situation off like it was nothing, but Spock was a good enough reader of emotion and body language to tell he was lying. What he wanted to say was he hadn't intended to reveal his feelings for the young captain in such an ill-mannered way, but something told him this was not a good time to discuss such things. However, he couldn't just leave Kirk on his current train of thought.
Straightening up, he looked Kirk dead in the eyes and said, "What with my limited experience with becoming heavily intoxicated, it appears to me as though the usual limits on one's actions are completely removed, allowing one to act out their true desires without conceiving any potential consequences."
Kirk gave a wide eyed stare to the Vulcan before him, who merely smirked. "Judging by the time, would it be safe to assume that your mother is preparing dinner for the three of us?"
"Oh, yeah," Kirk said as he blinked his shock away. "She's got a big salad prepared full of vegetables from her garden. It's going to be pretty tasty."
"Then we should go inside," Spock said.
He walked past Kirk and up the stairs into the house. Kirk smirked as he watched the Vulcan walking in his clothes. They didn't really suit him, but damn if he didn't look good in them. As he walked into the house himself and closed the door, he wondered if his ass looked as good in those jeans as Spock's did.