Chapter Text
Spock is on leave for two months from his usual tour of duty when he enters the bar. It’s a very dusty place, the rough and tumble sort of area he would never find himself in usually, were it not for his Human colleagues insisting.
Captain Pike almost immediately abandons him in favour of taking shots with a droolingly enamoured Number One, and Spock finds himself sitting alone in a corner booth, attempting to ignore his nausea at the smell of drunken breath and cannabis. He’s failing miserably.
There’s a loud crash and gasps of patrons as a man is suddenly hurled into Spock’s table.
“Say that to me again,” a voice dares from a few feet away.
Spock looks up and sees the most fiery human he has ever encountered: bright blonde, curly hair tied up in a messy bun on her head, light skin, a leather jacket, and jeans.
The man groans as he gets up, wobbling. “I said,” he hollers. “You’re a slut! And so’s your friend!”
The leather jacket stranger growls, stalking forward—the crowd is full of hushed whispers, and parts to let her through. She spares a glance at Spock, smiling very briefly and saying, “Sorry about this” before she grabs her enemy’s shirt collar and hauls him up—an impressive feat considering their relative sizes, though her arm does bulge with the effort. She punches him once in the face, then tosses him to the side.
A security guard comes over. “Hey, we don’t solve our problems with violence—”
“You don’t,” Leather Jacket corrects. Then she grunts and shrugs. “You gonna throw me out?”
“Rules.”
“Yeah. Figured. But for the record, you should throw that slime-ball out of here, too: he just assaulted my friend.” As the guard stares at her with wide eyes, she shouts over her shoulder, “Come on, Bones, we’re leaving.”
A man appears from the crowd, looking no less shocked than the other patrons, following Leather Jacket out into the night. Before they go, Leather Jacket smiles apologetically at Spock.
Spock glances down at the spots of blood on the slowly degrading plastic tabletop.
Spock eventually loses the battle with the smells of the bar and makes his way outside. Leather Jacket and her friend, “Bones,” are still standing outside, talking to each other. Bones is saying something urgently to Leather Jacket, who seems to be arguing with him.
Bones looks up. “You got a problem?”
Spock startles when he realizes he is the one being addressed. “No,” he says.
“Lay off, Bones,” Leather Jacket says. She looks up at Spock and cocks her head. “Did we ruin your table?” She seems to be teasing.
“No,” Spock says, a little abashed. “Though you have certainly made my night more entertaining.”
Leather Jacket laughs.
“If that man truly assaulted your friend—”
“He was dragged out,” Leather Jacket dismisses. “Saw him leave.”
“And like I said, I’m fine.” Bones wipes at his mouth, shifting uncomfortably. “He was drunk and I’m not saying what he did was alright, but Christ, Jules, a bar fight?”
“Damn right. You telling me if some creep came up and kissed me like that, you wouldn’t have gut-punched them?”
Bones’s look darkens. “Kid, you know I woulda killed them.” He grunts. “Or at least tried.”
“Exactly.” Leather Jacket—Jules—looks at Spock again. “He’s still watching us,” she mutters to Bones, probably not realizing Spock can hear them.
Spock looks away swiftly.
“Hey,” Jules calls to him. “Is that a Starfleet badge?”
Spock looks down at his chest. “Yes.”
“We’re in the fleet too.”
“Indeed?” Spock hesitantly walks towards them, assuming this is an invitation to continue conversation. Jules grins and Bones looks a little displeased.
“Sciences, huh?” Jules regards his uniform. “Nice.” She whistles when she sees his cuffs. “Commander?”
Spock nods. “Commander Spock of the U.S.S. Enterprise. Though currently I am on extended leave.”
“Ah, she’s a gorgeous ship. Lieutenant Juliana Ovidia Kirk of the U.S.S. Constitution, though I’m on leave too.” Lt. Kirk nudges her companion. “Dr. Leonard McCoy, U.S.S. Constitution.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Kirk, Dr. McCoy.”
“Pleasure to meet you too.” Kirk observes him. “You don’t look like the type of person to be in this bar.”
“I was asked to come here by my fellow officers.” Spock admits quietly, “And I am beginning to wish I had not agreed to…”
Kirk laughs. “You wanna come with us? We’ve gotta get out of here too.”
Spock is surprised, to say the least. “I am flattered, Lieutenant Kirk—”
“Jules.”
“…However, I am not sure why you would extend such an invitation.”
Kirk shrugs. “Why not?”
An interesting question. Spock puzzles over this strange Human who smiles brightly up at him.
“If she’s weirding you out,” McCoy says. “You don’t have to come with us.” He shoves her lightly. “And Jules, quit hitting on strangers.”
“I’m not hitting on him!” She snaps. “I’m offering him a fun night out.”
Spock shakes his head. “I believe I shall return to my residence for the evening.”
Kirk frowns. “You sure? It’s really no trouble. We were probably just going to go to the game bar on tenth.”
Spock admits himself intrigued. “…What is a game bar?”
“Boring,” McCoy mumbles while Kirk says excitedly, “A bunch of puzzles and board games and booze. Chill, relaxed atmosphere. Like a game café, but for night owls. And, well, alcohol consumers. It’s a new thing, they just brought it into San Fran recently. You down?”
Spock hesitates only until Kirk continues, “Personally, I’m all about getting into a chess match over there. When people get slightly tipsy? Whoooo, it’s hilarious.”
Spock’s hands twitch at his side. “Chess is one of my preferred games.”
Kirk grins. “Come on then, Commander Spock. You’ll have fun, I promise.”
“Jules,” Bones hisses. “Are you serious?”
“Shut up, Bones.
“It’s a ten minute walk, so let’s get going.”
Commander Spock is one of the most interesting people Jules has ever met. (And okay, he’s also pretty gorgeous, but she’s not about to tell him that.)
“Checkmate.” Jules places her queen.
Spock furrows his brow at the game. “…Indeed.”
“Something wrong?”
“I have…never been beaten by a Human before.” He gently tips his king. “No offence, Lieutenant.”
“Jules.”
Spock hums.
“You don’t like using first names, or what?”
“I…find it an extension of familiarity that I do not like to claim about others so easily.”
“That seems like a lot of words to say you don’t want to assume someone’s your friend.”
Spock looks up at Jules and his cheeks turn slightly green.
“Another round?” Jules suggests. “I think Bones is gonna leave soon, but I’m free all night.”
“You do not wish to leave with him?”
“Nah. He’ll be fine.” She takes another drag of her beer. “So, another round?”
Spock’s eyebrow twitches. “Another round.”
Jules is laughing the entire way back to her apartment, and Spock looks slightly amused too. She stops at the door.
“This was fun. How long are you on Earth?”
“Two months.”
Jules nods. “Only one for me. Maybe I’ll see you around?”
“I would like that.”
“I’d like it too.” She opens the door with her access card. “Goodnight, Mist—I’m sorry, it is Mister?”
Spock nods.
“I didn’t want to assume—”
“I appreciate it. But yes, I am a man.”
Jules nods. “And I’m a woman, as you probably got from all the she/her.” She steps into the lobby just slightly. “Goodnight, Mr. Spock.” Just as she’s about to go in farther, she bites the bullet and says quickly, “Can I give you my caller ID? I only really hang out with Bones and my friend Gary, I…I’d like some more…friends.”
Spock stiffens at the word. “Very well,” he says cautiously. “Though I think of us closer to strangers than…friends. This is not a reflection of my enjoyment of your company, of course, Lieutenant.”
It doesn’t help reassure Jules much. “Right. Well, uh, here.” She tosses him her communicator, and he nods to himself, reading the number, then handing it back. “You don’t want to write it down?”
“I have an excellent memory.”
“Well…okay.” Jules backs up into the lobby. “Call me. We’ll play more chess or something.”
Spock nods. He hesitates, then places his hand in the door just as it’s about to close. “Jules.”
“Yes?”
“There is a symphonic orchestra I was rather hoping to see while I was on Earth, playing two nights from now…would you be interested in accompanying me? I have no others to go with.”
Jules has been to the symphony a couple times. It was a little boring, but hey, a nice night out with a new friend? “Sure. What time?”
“Twenty-one hundred hours. Shall I meet you here, forty-five minutes beforehand?”
“I’d like that.” Jules nods curtly. “Night, Mr. Spock.”
Spock removes his hand, saying in an almost curious tone through the quickly shrinking sliver between the closing doors, “Goodnight, Ms. Kirk.”