"No, but he literally bought a brand new teapot," I urged, much to T'yonga's amusement, "For me."
She chuckled to herself, and placed her drink down on the bar, looking at me with what could almost be described as sympathy. It was once again just her and me, and despite being exhausted after a long day yesterday, I had decided that going out on a Saturday night wasn't such a bad idea. The bar was buzzing with Starfleet students, and a few teachers, who all had the same idea.
"A teapot?" she asked incredulously, her left eyebrow quirking up in amusement, "Well. It's basically a proposal, then."
I rolled my eyes at her reaction and took another sip of my strawberry daiquiri cocktail, resting my elbow on the bar.
"All I'm saying is that it was odd, don't you think? That he cared so much about whether I was comfortable?"
"Alex. You're going to have to stop pretending that he doesn't affect you."
Her response took me by surprise and I was frozen in silence for a few seconds. Surely I wasn't pretending anything? I liked him, of course. He was polite, and since apologising to me for his original behaviour, I realised that he was also relatively kind. Well, kind for a Vulcan.
"Affect me?" I repeated T'yonga's words back at her in an attempt to try to make sense out of them.
"Oh, come on, Alex. I've known you longer than anyone in this goddamn Country, even Bones."
My lip quirked up at the mention of my dissection teacher. T'yonga and I had often discussed him, me usually talking about his teaching methods, her reflecting on how good his arse looked in a suit.
"You can't look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't have even the tiniest, most minuscule bit of a crush on him."
I sighed, and took another sip of my drink, before staring T'yonga directly in the eyes, not even blinking.
"I do not have even the tiniest, most minuscule crush on him." I deadpanned and she laughed, throwing back her head dramatically.
"Denial, my darling, the first stage of realisation."
We were interrupted in our little chat by an already bladdered James Tiberius Kirk, who staggered up to us both, half a glass of cider in his hand. He slung his arm around T'yonga's shoulder, but looked directly at me.
"Alex." He said, "You're friends with pointy-ears, aren't you?"
I was taken aback by his question, but regained my composure quickly.
"I wouldn't go as far as friends, Jim, but I'm an acquaintance."
"Acquaintance, shamaintance. Can you get into his private files or not?"
That question really did render me speechless for a good ten seconds. What the hell could a Cadet like Jim Kirk want with the Commander's Private files? It wasn't as if he was planning on getting some algebraic division done in his spare time.
"No, James. I can't." I responded quickly, and he pouted comically, before dragging up a stool and sitting next to T'yonga, "Why do you want to?" I enquired.
He sighed, and crossed his legs, "The Kobayashi Maru."
That was all the answer I needed. Spock personally designed the Kobayashi Maru, a test so difficult that nobody in Starfleet history had ever passed it. I recalled T'yonga telling me about Jim's failure in it a few days ago, and understood his plan completely.
"No." I said simply, "No way, never. I'm not going to help you cheat your way into the cabin of a ship by risking my own degree. That's not going to happen, Jim."
He sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Don't be so melodramatic, Birchwood, it was just a suggestion." He gave me an easy-going smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, "Worth a try."
I snorted, and took another sip of my cocktail, beginning to feel the alcohol go to my head.
"Sorry, Jim." I said, and meant it, despite everything. He was a nice guy, I didn't blame him for trying to beat the system.
"Nah, don't worry about it, Alex. Honestly. It was a long shot anyway." He gave a small smirk, this one making his eyes twinkle, and I knew that he had understood me. T'yonga, on the other hand, didn't.
"I'll help you!" She almost yelled, to which Jim turned and looked at her with a beaming grin.
"And how do you plan on doing that, 'Yong? You gonna seduce the Vulcan? Somehow I doubt that would work."
I snorted at the mental image of T'yonga trying to seduce Commander Spock, and him getting increasingly more and more flustered at her advances. I tried to ignore the small but definitely noticeable stab of anger in my gut at the suggestion. What was wrong with me? I thought back to my earlier conversation with T'yonga.
It wasn't a crush, surely?
I admired him, from a purely professional point of view of course, but was there anything more than that? I tried to picture him in slightly different situations, testing my theory in my mind. I imagined him touching my hands, my face, my lips. I flushed red. I liked that mental image a little too much for my liking.
"No, stupid," replied the Orion, bringing me out of my personal monologue, "I'm an engineering student. I live for fucking around with code."
Jim's eyes widened slightly in realisation, and his grin got even bigger. An engineering student. He had hit the jackpot.
"Of course!" he almost yelled, "Perfect! I have the test again in a month, is that enough time?"
T'yonga bit her lip, and the light in Jim's eyes made me wonder for a second if this had been his plan all along. To get T'yonga's attention in order to gain her help. I pushed the thought from my mind almost instantly, Jim was many things, but I couldn't see him being cruel just to get his own way.
"I can't say for certain, but I sure can try, Jim."
T'yonga clapped her hands together in glee, and Jim clinked his glass with hers, and downed his remaining half a pint of cider in three long draughts. He clapped her on the shoulder, and his expression was like that of an eight year old boy who just found out he got a bike for Christmas.
"I've got a copy of the base code sequence on my laptop," he held up his hand as I opened my mouth, and looked at me, the familiar cheeky glint back in his eyes, "Better not to ask, Birchwood. You seem like the kind of girl who wouldn't want to get messed up in illicit activities."
I harrumphed in jest, and T'yonga giggled and patted my shoulder, winking at me, "Unless those illicit activities involve canoodling with members of staff..."
I stuck my tongue out at her, immature, I knew, but she laughed anyway. She looked at Jim expectantly, and I could see the cogs whirring in her brain. She was dying to get her hands on that base-code. Despite her party-girl attitude, T'yonga was one of the most intelligent people I knew, probably one of the most intelligent in Starfleet. Give her a juicy code to bite into, and she'd crack it in a matter of minutes. I gave her a smile, and downed the rest of my cocktail.
"Go back to Jim's, 'Yonga. I know you can't wait to get your teeth into the Kobayashi Maru."
She gave me a concerned look, "How are you gonna get home, Birchwood?"
I shook my head at her worry, "I'll get a taxi, I'll be fine."
She looked unsure, but I could see that she was desperate to have a look at what made one of the most infamous tests in Starfleet history tick. Eventually she made up her mind and stood up, giving me a tight hug, and putting a crisp twenty dollar bill in my hand. I looked up in shock, but she smiled and winked at me.
"Taxi's on me tonight, Alex. Get home safe. I'll be late back." She leaned over and gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek, before linking her arm into Jim's and allowing herself to be led out of the bar. I glanced around myself for a moment, before standing up and pulling my thick coat on.
I left the bar to a surprisingly dark night, and wrapped my arms around myself, protecting myself from the cold, walking down the busy street. There was a taxi rank roughly a ten minute walk from the bar, so I strode out quickly, keen to get home. I checked my watch, half eleven, and sighed to myself as my leather boots splashed through the large puddles dotted around the cobbled sidewalk.
As I walked away from town, the number of people milling around decreased, until I walked alone, the streetlights casting long, spidery shadows on the uneven paths. A gust of cold wind blew through my hair, and I wrapped my arms tighter around my chest, relieved that I had gone out in a sloppy blue jumper and black skinny jeans rather than a short dress. I would have been freezing.
"Hey baby, how you doing?" The voice took me by surprise, and I jumped slightly, whipping my head around to see a young man, no older than twenty-five, with a lean but muscled figure and a light smattering of blonde stubble on his jawline, walking behind me, his hands tightly in his pockets. I smiled politely, and continued walking, slightly faster.
"Heeey now, where do you think you're going?" There was a drunken tone to his voice that I didn't trust, and I looked back around at him, any trace of a smile gone from my face.
"I'm going home." I responded curtly, quickening my pace. The last thing that I needed on a Saturday night was to be harassed by a stranger. A heavy hand rested on my shoulder, and my heart jumped in surprise.
"Leave me alone." I said, shaking off his hand, he quickened his pace and gave me a leering smile that made me want to gag.
"Ooh. An English girl?" he said, noticing my accent, "Is it true what they say about you?"
I rolled my eyes and answered back sarcastically, "That we hate random guys coming up to us on the street and trying to chat us up. Yes. It's true."
He chuckled, and maneuvered himself in front of me, blocking my path and causing me to stop walking.
"No," he grinned, "That you hate sex. Want to test it out on me?"
I raised my hand, fully intending to give him a hearty right hook, but he grabbed my arm tightly as it came up, locking it in place.
"Hey now," he smiled at me, the scent of alcohol on his breath, "don't be getting feisty."
I took a step back involuntarily, and was planning on running, when out of nowhere, a sleek black car screeched to a halt beside us. The man loosened his grip immediately now that we had company, and looked up to see who had been so rude as to disrupt him. The car, much to my surprise, had wheels, unlike most, which had now upgraded to flying. That must have been what had made the screeching sound.
The window rolled down, and I was shocked to see a very familiar Vulcan sat in the driving seat, his face like thunder.
"Who's this joker?" Muttered the man, glaring at the Professor with a look that would make lesser men shrink.
"Birchwood. Get in the car." His voice was curt and to the point, and I wasted no time in doing what he said, running around the front of the car and yanking open the passenger seat, slipping inside.
"Thanks," I muttered, and he nodded imperceptibly at me, before turning his attention back to the man outside, who looked a lot less confident under the intense gaze of the Professor.
"Name?"
"What the fuck are you talking about, pointy?"
Spock stiffened at his response, his fingers clenching the wheel of the car so tightly that his knuckles were beginning to turn white.
"I asked for your name." His voice was like ice.
The man laughed, and staggered drunkenly forwards towards the car window, looking directly at Spock.
"Matthew Jacobson. What the hell are you going to do about it?"
"My name, Matthew Jacobson, is Commander Spock, Senior Mathematics Tutor at Starfleet."
The man's face turned white as he began to comprehend his words. He was in deep shit.
"And judging by your attire," Spock gestured towards the man's thick woolen scarf, bearing the Starfleet logo, "You are one of our pupils."
"Sir, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Sir... I didn't mean it, we were just having a bit of fun..." Matthew begged, but it fell on deaf ears.
"Let's see how longer you remain a pupil once I discuss this event with your Form Tutor."
Before the man had a chance to comment, or argue his defense, Spock had placed his foot on the pedal and sped off, leaving him stood in the rain. He drove in silence for a good twenty seconds, his hands tightly grasping the steering wheel, before he turned to me, his eyes dark.
"Are you hurt, Alex? Did he hurt you?" His voice was strained slightly, and I could see a green tinge begin to form on the tops of his ears, but what had surprised me most was the use of my first name. For all the time that I had known him, he had either called me 'Cadet' or 'Miss. Birchwood'. 'Alex' was new and unexplored territory. It was different, familiar... intimate.
I rubbed my wrist where I had been grabbed and forced out a smile, "I'm fine. Honestly." I couldn't keep the shake out of my voice. I was the opposite of fine. If he hadn't of been there, God knows what would have happened. Which begs the question, why was he there in the first place?
"What are you doing on the roads at this time on a Saturday night, Sir?" I asked him, my heart slowly beginning to return to its original rate after my run-in, and he trained his eyes back on the roads, which he was maneuvering with expert precision.
"I was working at the University." He said simply, "Fourth years have exams coming up, and I was writing up their papers."
"At eleven O'Clock on a Saturday night?" I asked incredulously, and a small hint of a smirk played at the corner of his lips, though his face remained strained.
"I'm not a student, Cadet."
We were back to 'Cadet' apparently. So much for familiarity.
"As a member of staff. My job doesn't finish when the University day finishes. My job finished once I have completed all of my work."
I nodded in understanding, it made sense that he would be working, of all things.
"Where do you live, Cadet?"
The question took me by surprise, and I was stumped for an answer for a few seconds.
"Block H7, Sir."
He nodded, and turned a corner, and I understood his question.
"Oh. No there's no need to drive me home, Sir. I can walk from here, honestly."
I heard an audible sigh.
"I would feel more comfortable knowing that you are home and safe, Cadet." Was his simple answer, as he continued to sped along the empty road. The silence in the car was deafening, making the Commander's steady breathing all too audible. We turned another corner, and he reached to the gear stick, accidentally brushing my thigh with the back of his hand. Even through jean fabric, I could feel the warmth from his skin leaching into mine, and I gasped quietly, before flushing bright red. I hope he didn't hear that. I swore that I saw him stiffen for a millisecond, before composing himself, and placing his hand back on the wheel, looking directly forwards, refusing to make eye contact with me.
I glanced around myself, trying to take my mind off the smooth skin of his hand, and noticed that the car smelt of his aftershave, the same musky, heady scent that filled his office. My throat went dry. I kept chanting the mantra in my head:
Not a crush,
Not a crush,
Not a crush.
But I was believing it less and less as the car continued to drive.
All too soon, he stopped, and parked up beside Student block H7, a looming grey building that seemed even more dank and depressing when covered by heavy rainfall. He turned to look at me, and I suddenly became all to aware of his proximity. His eyes, full of a deep emotion that I couldn't quite place my finger on, were trained on my hands, clasped tightly in my lap. I glanced down at them, and realised that they were shaking, though from the cold or from my run in with Matthew Jacobson, I wasn't sure. My heart was beating like a hummingbird, and I knew that it had nothing to do with physical exertion. This was something new entirely. I trained my eyes on at him, and he moved his hand slightly, as if he was going to take mine, but composed himself immediately, and looked up into my eyes, all trace of what was there before gone.
"Get a good night's sleep, Cadet," He said, completely business, "I'm planning on starting a new topic on Monday. You will want to be well rested for it."
That was it. No 'goodbye', no 'stay safe'. A simple 'get a good night's sleep'. I mentally shook myself, pulling myself out of whatever trance I had managed to find myself in, and gave him a beaming smile, which he seemed surprised by.
"Thank you, Sir. If you hadn't have found me-" I reeled off my sentence and left it hanging in the air like dust. It may have been my imagination, but I swore that I could see a flash of pain cross his face at the thought. Before he could day anything else, I pushed open the car door and stepped out into the rain, my already soaking hair getting even more drenched as it fell in rivulets down my face and the bridge of my nose. I gave one last wave, and closed the car door, taking a step back, as he drove off into the night.
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P L E A S E R E V I E W