It was your first time visiting sick bay without a serious injury of your own. Instead, you were visiting Spock. He was seated on the edge of a med bed when you arrived, looking extremely displeased with the entire situation.
"Gosh, you're irritated enough to be human," you teased, walking up to him.
"(Y/N)," he said, features relaxing into a less annoyed expression. "Did you come here to insult me?"
"Nope, just to check up on you," you said. "What was the verdict?"
"Nothing significant. Doctor McCoy–" his lips drew tighter at the mention of the name "–simply enjoys keeping his patients here for longer than necessary. He has gone for the release papers so that I may leave."
A silence fell. You cleared your throat. "Your lip looks better," you said, trying to push the conversation back into motion.
"Yes." He touched the spot in question. "I did not duck quickly enough."
You smiled. "We really took out a dozen Romulans and a Romulan ship, didn't we? I still can't believe we succeeded."
"Since we did succeed, I fail to understand your confusion."
You laughed. He looked startled, and you realized that he had only heard you laugh a grand total of two times before now.
"Sorry," you said, grinning. "That was a joke, wasn't it?"
"Perhaps." His eyes flicked away from yours, and you noticed a tinge of green creeping into his cheeks. What had you said to make him blush?
"Oh!" you exclaimed, suddenly recalling your main reason for hurrying down to see him. "The captain put in a commendation for me, and Starfleet is promoting me to a lieutenant!"
"Congratulations." Spock noticed that your smile had faded. "Do you not desire the promotion?"
"I do," you said hastily. "Really."
"You are lying."
How the Hell could he tell? "Maybe," you mumbled. You let out a slow breath. "Kind of, and kind of not, all right? I don't want it because it's new and everything is moving way too fast and I'm a bit scared and uncertain and self-conscious. But then again, I think I actually do want it. I . . ." You swallowed, but Spock had always been honest with you. The least you could do was return the favour. "I think – I think I'd like to have a command of my own someday."
For a moment, even your heartbeat seemed to stand still.
At last, Spock spoke. "I have always suspected that you will be an excellent ship's captain one day." The corner of his lips twitched upwards ever so slightly, suggesting that his human half would have liked to smile.
"You have?" You stared. "Why?"
"You are quick to take charge, and you possess a quick mind and fine instincts."
Oh, Hell. Your turn to blush.
"My mind doesn't feel very quick right now," you said truthfully, "and from what I've observed, my instincts are pretty sucky."
"In that case, your fault is in your observations," he countered.
You rolled your eyes. "Oh, please. You don't believe those things you said."
"Vulcans," he said quietly, "do not lie."
More silence. This time, he broke it.
"(Y/N), I believe you said yesterday that you owed me a favour."
"Yeah," you said. "Why? Do you need me to do something?"
"I would like‒" he cleared his throat "‒I would like for you to convey your clear disinterest to Doctor McCoy."
"What?" you said, blinking. "You – why?"
Something seemed to close behind his eyes. "It . . . does not . . . I spoke hastily, (Y/N). Please forget that I said anything."
You just eyed him suspiciously, and when you left sick bay several minutes later, the scenario was still dancing on the surface of your mind. That had been unusual, even for him.
