Title: Jimmy Kirk and his Rotten Day
Author: SmuttyKitty
Pairing: K/S, but barely there
Rating: Suitable for young children and pets of all ages except for one word. (The S! Word.)
Disclaimer and stuff: Paramount, blah blah blah. The word Lasha was cribbed from Islaofhope without her permission, I hope she doesn't take it too badly.
Summary: Kirk has a bad day. Spock does something nice. Not that. Perverts! ;) Anybody who knows me from other fandoms knows this is pretty sunny for me. Aww. I'm getting a cavity. This story was inspired by my friend Yoshi who actually cooked a wicked delicious cake like that (minus the made up alien cocoas).

JIMMY KIRK AND HIS ROTTEN DAY

Kirk glowered from the command chair, then scowled through dinner. Finally he retired to his quarters, and looked sour in the peace of his own room. Because he was having a shitty day.

First he realized his pants came back from the quartermaster's half a size too small. Then he felt the twinge of a headache, threatening to bloom behind his eyes. And the day had just begun!

The first meeting of the day was with that damned Chekov who just didn't know when to quit. Then Nils Baris and what shall go down as the "Tribble Incident" in the annals of the Enterprise's history, with the "incident" culminating in him sitting in a pile of dead tribbles.

Finally, when things had calmed down and he was going to relax and eat a nice supper, he noticed Bones had changed his diet card to chicken, salad, and cottage cheese. Jim Kirk hated cottage cheese. And Bones damn well knew it.

After so many indignities in one day, he decided to simply turn it in. Go to bed, and hope there weren't anymore strange creatures for him to spend the afternoon in a heap of tomorrow.

He laid in the narrow bunk, lights low, trying to relax. So naturally something must disturb him. The door chime. Ah.

"Who is it?" He said in an angry staccato.

"Spock, sir."

"Come in."

Spock was still wearing his uniform. It almost put a smile on Kirk's face. Almost. The captain quickly pulled on a t-shirt, but didn't get out of bed. He merely sat upright, blanket in lap.

Instead of coming near the bed, Spock was doing something near the food processor. In a moment he approached the bed, tray with lid in hand. He perched on the foot of the bed and offered it to Kirk.

"Lasha, I have brought you something."

Kirk still frowned. It would take more than pet names to shake him out of this, Spock could see. He removed the lid. Inside was triple dark chocolate, no-bake, crustless cheesecake made from some of the finest chocolate in the galaxy (in Spock's opinion) by two Vulcan hands in the science lab after his shift.

The science lab doubled as an excellent bakery because of multi-setting "light boxes" which functioned nicely as convection ovens. Though Spock would never admit to this alternative usage, or how he discovered it.

"It's Vulcan, South American, and Llishtorr varietals of cocoa."

Secretly Spock loved to watch the captain pout, and not entirely because it gave him an opportunity to try and cheer him up. It was an attractive mode overall he felt, in small doses. However, he was confused that it was still happening after the presentation of his lovely dessert. Perhaps another tactic was in order.

"As it is illogical to waste food, I shall eat it then." And forked as large a piece a Vulcan could take and maintain a sense of decorum.

"Gimme that." Kirk grabbed the fork and shoved it in his mouth. He rolled it around for a moment in his mouth.

"That's really good cake, Spock."

"I obtained the recipe from my mother sometime ago." He relinquished the cake plate to his captain.

"Thank you, Spock."

"Thanks are illogical, as you are well aware. However, I hope you are," he hesitated, loathe to discuss emotional states, " feeling better. If you will."

"It has been a very long, strange, and decidedly bad day, Mr. Spock. But I think we shall manage." Kirk said drily.

"I am gratified to hear it." He stood up to leave, and kissed the top of Jim's head.

"Good night, Lasha"

Kirk quickly grabbed Spock's arm before he retreated out of grasp.

"Thank you. Will you come back when you are done?" He looked up inquisitively. Spock raised his eyebrow.

"That depends. What logical reason would I have?"

"Pick up your cake plate." Kirk waved the ornate Vulcan platter, with half a piece of cake on it.

"Indeed. I will endeavor to "pick up my plate" at 2350. If that is acceptable to you?"

"It's a date, then." Kirk gave his first honest smile of the day. Spock returned it with one of his enigmatic Vulcan smiles and left.

The captain ate another bite of cake, then flopped back in the bed. Perhaps something good would happen today after all.

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