Art by Beth
Discarded ribbon.
Leftover cake, crumbs hugging the cushions.
He looked around his quarters in dismay, the subtle misplacement of furniture shattering its usual harmony.
Empty plates.
Jammed recycler.
Chocolate smears on the wall.
Spock sighed, ever baffled by human habit, ever stretched to understand the reason or the logic of the human mind.
He picked up a discarded party hat, and twiddled with it, his long fingers dancing along its plasticard surface.
It had almost been an invasion. His privacy bared to many.
He shivered.
The trust had been hard to give.
But the smile had been worth it.
**********
FIN.
One Vulcan, one party hat, one hell of a picture.
It had sat on his head just askew slightly, his uplifted, puzzled eyebrow nudging it off centre even more, his elegant ears more elf-like than usual.
It had been a joke really, an offhand comment about Spock throwing a party. He had never actually meant him to do anything about it.
But the Vulcan had surprised him.
Research had its uses.
And Jim Kirk had had his birthday party.
He smiled again.
Spock, a balloon, and the basics of static electricity.
The Vulcan had preferred the hat after that.
They had invaded Spock's cabin, and Kirk felt a little guilty. Something like 'they came, they saw, they put it completely out of logical order'. He could almost feel Spock's cringe from across the room.
But Spock had risked, had given.
And Kirk had accepted.
And as he had assessed those dark eyes of his first officer
Despite the disarray, despite the interruption of his privacy
Behind those eyes.
He saw it.
And he smiled.
**********
FIN.
Art by Beth