Chapter Text
Jim Kirk yawned as he stepped out of the shuttle, his momentary lapse in concentration nearly causing him to trip over his own feet as he walked down the few steps from the inside of the shuttle to the ground.
The conference had run late into the night; the discussions lasting for hours after it was scheduled to have ended. And Jim being, well, Jim, had spent the rest of the night poring over his research notes while the conjectures of other scientists in his field were still fresh in his mind. He was so engrossed in his work, that it was 0600 hours before he even realized it, and his shuttle back to San Francisco was departing in half an hour.
He had managed to catch a few minutes of sleep here and there on the short shuttle ride across the country, but he was still bleary eyed as he was walking towards baggage claim. He stopped for a moment in front of the round conveyor and rubbed his eyes, blinking rapidly to refocus them. Almost immediately he saw his black suitcase and pulled it off of the rotating belt, breaking into a run after he did so in order to catch the idling shuttle bus to Starfleet Academy that waited a few metres away.
The Academy campus was only a five minute drive away in light traffic. The morning rush lengthened the commute by a bit, but within 20 minutes Jim was safe and sound in his quarters. His suitcase long forgotten next to the door, he stripped off his jacket and pants and fell onto his bed in naught but his boxers, socks, and t-shirt.
There had been a minor delay in between transporting the luggage out of the cargo holds to the Starfleet Academy spaceport and beaming the passengers down. Spock was standing stiff as a board, mildly annoyed at the turn of events before he reminded himself that Vulcans did not feel annoyance. Still, he had planned to be settled into his quarters before midday, giving him ample time for meditation before he would be shown to his laboratories.
Starfleet Academy. Spock would have been a graduate, as his Vulcan education would have undoubtedly enabled him to be able to complete the required curriculum in fewer years than most of the Academy’s students. Perhaps he would even be a high ranking officer and researcher in the institution, had he picked it over the Vulcan Science Academy all of those years ago. He did not regret his choice to attend the Vulcan Science Academy; that would be illogical. Simply, he was reflecting on the possibility of what his life could have been had he chosen a different path.
His research at the VSA had contributed to many important breakthroughs both on Vulcan and throughout the Federation. As such, he had visited Earth a few times in the past for both visits pertaining to his scientific research as well as ambassadorial trips with his parents when he was a child. However, it would be his first time residing on the planet for a period that lasted longer than a week.
Striding towards the baggage claim, he swept his eyes once over the luggage that had accumulated and knew that his bag was not there. There was however, a very similar bag with one notable difference; it was missing his identification card. Clearly the one who had taken his suitcase lacked any higher thinking skills, as he had not even bothered to place an identification tag on the luggage he had left behind.
Spock would simply have to hope that whoever had taken his luggage realized it soon, and decided to contact him. He could not fathom what a human might want with Vulcan robes and meditation incense, as well as eleven PADDs and two folders of handwritten notes that contained the grand majority of his research on quantum theoretical physics. As such, there was no danger of it being stolen.
Merely a more than mild inconvenience. Huffing, Spock boarded the next shuttle to the Academy grounds. He had been on Earth for no more than ten minutes, and he had already had more adventure than his twenty-five years living on Vulcan.
Jim woke up around 1800 hours with a horrible taste in his mouth. Groaning as he sat up, he remembered that he had had a particularly savoury Andorian club sandwich before his flight and had fallen asleep without brushing his teeth.
Sleepily ambling towards where he had left his suitcase, he jolted completely awake once he tried to zip it open and realized it had locks on it.
“Fuck.”
He had never locked his suitcase.
In a panic, he ran his hands over the suitcase, turning it on its side in an attempt to find any sort of identification. Years and years’ worth of research was in his luggage. The PADDs could easily be wiped and then sold if certain less than savoury people had gotten hold of his suitcase.
Finding a comm number, he breathed a sigh of relief. Not even bothering to check the name, he quickly dialed the number.
“I assume you are the one who took my suitcase,” said a calm, steady voice as soon as the call went through.
“Uh, yeah, sorry. I was really tired. Hey listen, uh, d’you…”
“I am in possession of your luggage as well. At your earliest convenience, we may arrange a time to meet and return each other’s possessions.”
Jim nodded fervently to no one in particular. “Agreed. How does tomorrow morning sound to you? I’m still pretty out of it since my flight so I don’t think I should…” Jim was cut off again by the stranger.
“I am amenable. I shall see you then. You may message me a location whenever you please.” The line was promptly cut.
“Touchy, touchy,” Jim said, snorting. He quickly typed out a text message.
In front of that Tellarite café a few minutes from Starfleet if you know the place?
Spock stared at the message for a few moments. He hadn’t even bothered to consider that the individual who had taken his luggage was someone at Starfleet Academy; in his mind they were a particularly unattractive, unintelligent being. Possibly a species that lacked even the limited higher functioning humans did.
Affirmative. 0900 hours?
Sounds good. Jim Kirk, by the way.
If Vulcans felt surprise, Spock’s eyes would have bulged out of his face. As it was, he barely contained a small gasp of shock. Surely not the Jim Kirk? Professor James Tiberius Kirk. Commander James Tiberius Kirk. The golden boy of astrophysics and warp core engineering theory. The man who’s latest article Spock had just been reading for the sixth time on his journey from Vulcan to Earth.
However, Jim was a popular name on Earth, as Spock soon found with a quick search, as was Kirk. And the likelihood of this man being the James Tiberius Kirk was 0.0827% within the San Francisco area, owing to the fact that he had simply introduced himself as Jim Kirk.
Spock shook his head. It was highly unlikely that someone of Dr. Kirk’s intellect would mistakenly take another person’s luggage.
Ten minutes later, he typed out a response.
Spock, son of Sarek.
Jim’s reply was almost instantaneous.
You did sound like a Vulcan when we spoke earlier.
My Standard is unaccented. I fail to see how I would have sounded like a Vulcan.
Idk, just how your voice, yknow, carried itself.
Spock fought the urge to roll his eyes; his mother had been very fond of this amusing expression. Clearly this man was not James Tiberius Kirk. Spock relaxed a little bit, convincing himself that he just wanted to return the man’s luggage and cease all communications with him.
Except he was quite amiable, and possessed above average intelligence, or so it seemed by the way he spoke. Spock found himself actually wanting to reply to the man’s illogical answer.
He actually rolled his eyes this time. Not more than a few hours on Earth and the illogic of the humans was already seeping into his being.
His communicator pinged again.
And I’ve also been on Vulcan a couple of times. Pretty fluent in your language if I do say so myself.
Spock pursed his lips. Vulcan was not exactly a tourist destination and it was unlikely that Jim had gone to Vulcan on anything other than business of some sort.
Of what nature were your visits to Vulcan?
Oh, yknow. Conferences. Meetings.
Spock’s initial suspicions that this Jim might actually be Dr. James Tiberius Kirk began to resurface. Besides scientific meetings and political delegations, not many other sorts of conferences took place on Vulcan. Apart from the odd chess and go tournaments, of course.
For what conferences were you there, Mr. Kirk?
Jim’s replies had been instantaneous up until this point, and Spock waited no less than 5.4 minutes before becoming worried that he had in some way offended Jim. A question like this would not have been out of the ordinary on Vulcan, and to Spock, it seemed as if humans had very few boundaries.
The logical course of thought of course, was that Jim had simply fallen asleep. He had mentioned that he was ‘out of it’ earlier, and though Spock was unfamiliar with the saying, it was highly likely that the man meant that he was tired.
Still, the nagging feeling that he had somehow offended Jim Kirk was not going away, despite trying to assure himself that he did not know this man, nor was he expected to be aware of what did and did not offend him.
Dr. James Tiberius Kirk still on his mind, Spock quickly put in a search for the astrophysicist, noting in passing that with his blonde hair and striking blue eyes, he was exceptionally aesthetically pleasing for a human. But with the vast trove of Dr. Kirk’s published works in front of him, he found he could not pay much attention to how the man looked.
Spock downloaded Dr. Kirk’s first published article, the one that had solidified him as one of the lead researchers in the field of warp core engineering within the entire Federation. His article proposed using an alternative fuel source to dilithium crystals. Though mostly hypothetical albeit with calculations to back his claims, Dr. Kirk had made the revolutionary claim that if somehow isotopes of Cesium could be forced to collide under favourable conditions within the warp core of a starship, speeds which far exceeded even warp nine could very well be within the realm of possibility.
Spock remembered reading the article for the very first time, and now, several years later, he was just as fascinated by the ways in which Dr. Kirk's mind seemed to work.
Though his doctorate was in astrophysics, the vast amount of literature that Dr. Kirk published included everything from brand new theories on the formation of planetary systems and ideas on how to possibly counteract supernovae that threatened habitat worlds to incredibly detailed blueprints and schematics of starships that, according to his calculations, could perform at greater speeds and efficiencies than even the Federation's to-be flagship, the NCC-1701. Dr. Kirk had calculated that with the design he had proposed, under the best case scenario, starships had the potential to be 85.6% more efficient than the NCC-1701, and have a staggering 117.94% greater efficiency than the Federation's next best starship - the USS Potemkin.
Spock was engrossed; Jim Kirk not even in the remotest corners of his mind anymore. It was while he was reading Dr. Kirk's fifth published article on planetary formation within the Gamma Quadrant that he absentmindedly asked the computer for the time.
"0845 hours," the computer answered, voice crisp and fresh.
Spock blinked, becoming unsettled at the thought that he lost track of what time it was because of Dr. Kirk’s extensive literature. He had been reading for 13.6 hours straight, and hadn't slept nor meditated during the time. Vulcans required much less rest than humans, granted, but he had anticipated to sleep that night as he had felt minor exhaustion after his journey to Earth.
But now was not the time for such thoughts. He looked distastefully at the robes he had been wearing all night, but he could not change into clean clothes as he was not in possession of his luggage. He then proceeded to go out into the chilly, summer morning with Jim Kirk's suitcase in tow. Striding purposefully, he made it to the appointed place of meeting 3 minutes ahead of schedule.
Naturally, the human was late. Six minutes after 0900, Spock was scanning the street corner without even the slightest idea as to who he was looking for, save for him being human and male.
His peripheral vision caught sight of a man jogging towards his general direction. His breath caught in his throat when he turned his head to observe if it was indeed Jim Kirk. The individual in question was tall, approaching Spock's height, and was dressed in a pair of jeans and a thin white t-shirt despite the cool weather. As he steadily grew closer, Spock saw that his cheeks were flushed red with the combination of exercise and the coldness of the air, his blond hair tousled by the wind. His grin was dazzling and his bright blue eyes even more so. Slightly out of breath, the man approached Spock and held out his hand in the ta'al.
"Dif-tor heh smusma," James Tiberius Kirk greeted in flawless Vulcan. "I apologise for being late, the coffee maker wasn't working and I had to tinker with it and..."
Dr. Kirk kept rambling, gesturing wildly with his hands, and Spock found himself not hearing a word. He was left confused by this strange feeling he was experiencing; an odd tumultuous feeling in his stomach coupled with a shortness of breath. He would have to meditate on these symptoms at a later time, but for now he had to finish dealing with Dr. Kirk.
"So yeah, sorry," he finished sheepishly, hunching slightly and burying his hands in his pockets.
Spock cleared his throat. "It is of no consequence," he replied, effortlessly lifting the bag and placing it closer to the man. "Here is your luggage, Dr. Kirk."
Dr. Kirk grinned. "So you know my identity," he said. He looked around nervously before looking back at Spock, an action that perplexed the Vulcan.
Spock opened his mouth to bid James goodbye, but he was interrupted.
"Listen, this might sound really stupid and I'm sorry if I got it wrong but... You introduced yourself as Spock son of Sarek and I've been wondering since then...you're not S'chn T'gai Spock, are you?" Dr. Kirk asked, smiling shyly. "Quantum theoretical physicist?"
Spock felt his heart clench as a slightly fearful sensation surged through him. His breath was caught in his throat once again.
"Indeed. I had previously thought that my surname was unpronounceable by the human tongue; I admit I am surprised by your accent." Spock found himself attempting to change the topic as the likelihood that Dr. Kirk was about to mock or criticise his research approached 99.48%.
Jim waved his hand. "Languages come easily to me," he said, glancing at his watch. "Listen I gotta bolt but your last article on String Theory? Fucking brilliant. I might have read it at least ten times.” Another dazzling grin was sent Spock’s way.
Spock’s mouth went dry; another symptom to add to the growing list he would have to meditate upon as soon as he could. He silently contemplated what Dr. Kirk had just told him, unable how to respond to praise directed towards his research.
Dr. Kirk looked at Spock quizzically due to his extended silence, and smiled again. “Anyways, I have to go. Thanks for my suitcase back, and sorry for causing this whole thing in the first place.” He gave a little wave of his head and turned around to walk away. Only a brief moment later, he faced Spock again, only a few feet away from where he had been standing previously. “Feel free to comm me whenever, by the way. I’d love to talk physics with someone of your obvious intelligence. Bye!”
Without waiting for Spock to reply, Jim turned on his heel and walked away, unaware of the fact that he had left a very confused Vulcan behind him.
Action potentials fired rapidly through Spock’s brain during his walk back to his housing complex on the Academy campus; thoughts and calculations and diagnostics running through his mind as he attempted to ascertain just what had brought on those strange symptoms that had seemed to be plaguing him throughout his interaction with Dr. Kirk. They had mostly subsided, although he still felt the odd sensation in his abdomen lingering.
By the time he entered his apartment, he had concluded that the strange feelings were all as a consequence of the unfamiliarity of Earth and humans to him. He was not used to the cooler temperature of Earth, and the surprise of Jim Kirk actually being Dr. Kirk as well as his praise must have just caught Spock off guard. He would have to meditate and endeavour for such an occurrence to never happen again. He was representing the Vulcan Science Academy in an official capacity, after all. It would not do to have his human half seep out because of the influences Earth was having on him.
He took a quick sonic shower, still not comfortable with the idea of wasting so much water to clean himself when the sonic would be more efficient. Spock discovered quickly that, during his absence this morning, his Starfleet Academy uniform had been delivered to his door. It had been requested of him to don the black uniform complete with the Starfleet insignia that all instructors and researchers within the institute wore.
His contract stipulated that he conduct his research in an official capacity as a liaison between the Vulcan Science Academy and Starfleet. Although his primary focus would be research, the Academy reserved the right to ask him to lecture the students as a guest or substitute lecturer.
Spock had agreed, as long as he could turn down teaching a class in which he lacked sufficient knowledge of the subject matter. The captain conducting this meeting with Spock had snorted and assured him that he probably knew more about every course the Academy offered than the actual lecturers.
Putting on the uniform, Spock ensured that his lab coat and multitudes of PADDs were in his bag before he left the apartment. It had also been a part of his agreement that he be allowed to conduct his research alone, without the aid of a team. He did not desire to work with anyone on Vulcan, and he did not desire to do so here on Earth either.
Arriving at the building which housed the laboratory he had been assigned, Spock quickly made his way through the maze of hallways and turbolifts to a door that was simply marked Dr. Spock.
He programmed a lock sequence into the panel next to the door and it initiated itself once the doors closed behind him. Spock did not wish to be disturbed, and it was likely he would be in the lab for the greater part of the day and into the evening. The last thing he needed was a curious and fumbling cadet ogling his research and asking questions.
Spock quickly opened his research on his PADDs and placed them strategically on the bench in front of him. The notes were half in Standard and half in an almost illegibly scrawled Vulcan. But actual words were scarce on the screens in favour of theorems and numbers. After all, quantum theoretical physics had very little to do with any language besides that of mathematics.
He soon discovered that there was a holographic computer in the middle of the lab, similar to the model he had on Vulcan. Powering it up, the cyan images sprang to life in the air in front of him. Reaching out a tentative hand, Spock flicked a holographic particle with his fingers, sending it soaring to the other end of the room. His lips twitched in amusement for a split second before he put a clamp on his surfacing emotions. He reminded himself that he was here to work not engage in idle play.
Spock immediately synced the data on his PADDs to the central computer, making sure to encrypt it fully against any prying eyes.
And then he began his work.
Hours passed in the blink of an eye as Spock constructed atom after atom, molecule after molecule, sending groups of them flying to corners of the room as he focused on the particular particles in front of him. He simulated decay, both sped up and slowed down as well as particle collisions as he inputted multitudes of calculations and theorems into the computer.
It was illogical to get excited about one’s work as Vulcans simply did not get excited, however Spock found he did not care as his heart began to beat faster once he opened up the PADD containing the research project he had been forced to push aside: string theory.
It was an outdated theory that had not been touched for over a century as it had been discarded as being mostly conjecture and inaccurate science, nothing more. However reading about it as a child, he found it fascinating that with every different oscillation of the strings, different particles of matter arose.
It seemed almost flighty and fantastical, even to Spock’s eight year old mind. However as he grew older, the idea remained in the back of his mind and while his research initially began in particle physics, he found himself drifting towards string theory. As a result, he became the first scientist in decades to publish an article on why string theory was still a plausible idea. His claim was not one of conjecture either; it was backed by trans-dimensional mathematics of the highest order.
Looking at the holographic model, Spock’s focus lapsed for a brief second, back to Dr. Kirk. Even as the first scientist to publish on string theory in almost a century, he still considered himself obscure. His research in particle physics was grudgingly accepted by his peers at the VSA because they could not doubt its validity. However, the content of his paper on string theorywas heavy and difficult to understand, and because of the controversial subject matter, was disregarded by most physicists on Vulcan as being fanciful and shameful to their institute.
But Dr. Kirk had not only read his article, but praised him on it. It was the first positive comment Spock had received on his painstaking research, and it confused him. After the dismal failure of his paper amongst his peers, Spock had turned his focus back to particle physics. He didn’t open his notes on string theory for the remainder of his time at the VSA, keeping it as a side hobby – similar to what he had done with his love of astrophysics. He shook his head at the illogic of referring to a subject matter with such an emotionally-loaded word.
However, seven months later, now light years away from the scrutiny of his Vulcan peers and at an institution that welcomed, much to Spock’s puzzlement, whatever research he wished to conduct, Spock did not even hesitate before opening up his holographic models of the universe; the ones that that he had programmed all of those months before.
Holographic models of the universe that had been converged right down to the sub-subatomic level; to the oscillating strings that had sparked Spock’s interest from the very beginning.
Just as he reached his hand towards the model, preparing to cause the string to vibrate, he heard a low whistle from the back of the room.
Spock froze and immediately spun around to see an awestruck James Tiberius Kirk leaning against one of the supply cupboards near the door to the laboratory. He smiled his trademark sheepish grin at Spock.
“Uh sorry. I tried knocking but I guess you were, uh, busy,” he offered, shrugging as a form of apology.
Spock narrowed his eyes. “How were you able to bypass the security?” he demanded.
Dr. Kirk winced. “Yeah, sorry about that. The hacker in me likes to come out and play sometimes. Promise I’m not here to steal your research though,” he offered as consolation.
Spock faltered, not knowing how to reply to that statement. “I was not accusing you of being a thief…”
Dr. Kirk just laughed, striding over to where Spock was standing. “No, of course not. I’m just playing around, Spock. You know, illogical human and all.” His words trailed off as he looked at the holographic images, face illuminated by the bright blue glow.
Spock felt his breath catch in his throat for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. It seemed Dr. Kirk might have an ailment that was transferred to him via close proximity; he would have to speak to him about it once they became better acquainted.
“May I inquire as to the nature of your visit?” Spock asked tentatively, his eyes on Dr. Kirk despite the latter still being engrossed by the holographic images.
“I, uh, just wanted to… Wow, Spock. I just… This is beautiful.” Dr. Kirk’s voice was a low murmur. Suddenly, he turned to Spock, his blue eyes sharp and intense. “May I?” he asked, pointing towards the holographic atoms.
Spock simply nodded. “Please be careful,” he added as an afterthought. An illogical afterthought, as Dr. Kirk was a celebrated researcher. There was no doubt that he would be careful.
Slightly transfixed, Dr. Kirk turned his attention back to the atoms. Reaching out with his hands, he placed them on one of the atoms and pulled it apart, exposing the subatomic particles. Repeating the motion again, he uncovered tiny oscillating strings that brought a grin to his face.
Spock did not know when his eyes had drifted from the images Dr. Kirk was manipulating to Dr. Kirk’s face, but he found that he did not wish to look away. Seeing his expressions of utmost fascination and joy with Spock’s research… Well, Spock did not think he had ever had someone experience even that much interest in his work.
“What are your opinions on string theory, Dr. Kirk?” Spock asked, breaking the silence. Dr. Kirk carefully put down the model he was holding and turned to Spock.
“Hm, well. How long has it been since you ate?” Dr. Kirk asked.
Spock blinked, not understanding the relevance of the question. “I had breakfast shortly after I returned to my apartment after meeting with you this morning,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.
Dr. Kirk beamed. “Well, great. I’m starving, too. Let’s go grab a bite to eat and we can talk about string theory,” he said brightly, walked towards the door of the laboratory and clearly expecting Spock to follow him.
Spock could not find it in himself to tell Dr. Kirk that Vulcans required less sustenance than humans and he was, in fact, not starving. So without another word, he followed him out the door.