He couldn’t stop thinking about the shop.
It was illogical, of course. However, Spock of Vulcan was aware that much in his life that was connected directly, or indirectly, to his captain and bondmate, was illogical, the shop included.
He thinned his lips, focusing instead on the diagram in front of him with appreciation. The Ma’aranth were an interesting species, revering science to the same degree the Vulcans themselves did. Yet they rated a depth knowledge of a subject so highly, that there were only three sciences commonly studied on this planet: biology, both xeno and local, medicine and physics. Mathematics, chemistry and other sciences were considered merely an accessory for better a understanding of said subjects. The Museum of Xenobiology he was visiting was impressive, even to a Vulcan.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about the shop.
He repressed a sigh. Really. Sighing was most undignified. Also, a certain doctor was in the nearby medical museum. Spock had noticed how Doctor McCoy had an uncanny ability to be around when he occasionally submitted to his human nature, although he couldn’t understand how that was even possible given it was against all the laws of probability and logic. Yet it did happen, regardless, and so he had grown more cautious.
While he wandered the halls, 33.4% of his mind learnt about the biology of the planet Ma’aran, and the remaining 66.6% thought about the shop. He mentally revised the items he had purchased for Christmas gifts for his bondmate (three books by Patrick O’Brian that Jim still didn’t have in his collection.).
It might be logical to pay a visit to the shop. Jim had mentioned he would like to try a few items similar to the ones he has seen displayed.
Yes, it might indeed be a logical and elegant solution.
He wasn’t curious at all.
Doctor McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the Starship Enterprise, was happy.
It was a very rare state. Even more so this close to Christmas, which always reminded him of his daughter. But the Ma’aranth Medical Museum (Or “House”, as the Ma’aranth themselves called it) was incredibly impressive. Really. Probably the best he’d ever seen. And they were so eager to share their knowledge! Not like a certain other race of pointed eared hob…
In the middle of those happy thoughts, the doctor caught sight of one of said pointed-ear hobgoblins and raised an eyebrow in a gesture that always made Jim giggle (“Do you have any idea how much like Spock you look when you do that, Bones?” he’d once said) Their hotel was in the opposite direction. Curious, he started to follow Spock, turning down a little, dark street, cursing the Ma’aranth lack of height.
He barely had time to end the thought when he got one of the biggest surprises of his life.
The doctor’s jaw hung open as he watched Spock entering what looked very much like a sex shop.
Spock looked around with his usual curiosity and vague detachment. He noted that the shop was bigger than it looked from the street, and seemed to have an assortment of… objects from all over the galaxy. Natural, he realised, given the Ma’aranth proclivity for deep levels of knowledge.
He frowned, looking at a bulbous item vaguely resembling a Terran potato with what looked like mobile tentacles and a remote control. He was just about to test it when he saw a well known brown head outside the shop. A hundred thoughts, all of them orderly and logical, occurred to him. First and foremost, there was a sense of shame at being caught, which was immediately repressed. Then that shame was rationalised. He was not doing anything wrong, in logic or ethics, for either of their species. Indeed there was logic in seeking pleasure for one’s bondmate, after all, and he and Jim had been in a stable relationship for 1.64 years, ever since his Pon-Farr. Jim had also mentioned the idea of “sex toys” first, although he would never have forced them on the apparently more prudish Vulcan.
His mind calm, Spock looked at the doctor out on the street, trying to decide what would be the logical thing to do. And then, a thought came to him.
After all, it might be logical to ask Jim’s close friend – another human male – for help.
It wasn’t his intention to embarrass the doctor, and he certainly didn’t want revenge for the three times the doctor had caught him and Jim kissing, commenting on the act and questioning the logic of it. Really.
Revenge is, after all, illogical.
The probability that the doctor would actually help him was less than 3.78%.
“Doctor, it is cold out here. If you remain standing where you are for a further 5.43 minutes, I estimate a 65.6% probability of you catching a ‘cold’, as you Humans call the various pulmonary infections which share similar symptoms…”
“I know what a damn cold is! I’m a doctor!” McCoy snapped without pausing to think, his mind still blank from the shock of Spock catching him. Then he blinked. The green-blooded, pointy-eared hobgoblin was standing in the doorway of a sex shop, looking as though he was about to start alpha shift, his hands behind his back, his face calm and serene.
Before he could speak further, the Vulcan continued, “Since you are already here, I would appreciate some advice regarding my choice of gift for Jim.”
Leonard looked at Spock. The over-grown elf hadn’t just said that… he couldn’t have said that…
“Spock…” There had to be something in the planet atmosphere affecting him. That was it. The Vulcan was going crazy. Damn. He would bet on pollen. “Come with me. I’ll call Scotty and get you to sickbay to have a look at you, alright?”
His tone had been probably too gentle for the Vulcan, who raised an eyebrow and straightened his spine.
“Doctor, I assure you I am perfectly functional. From your previous comments on two hundred and fifteen separate occasions, I had surmised that you would be more likely to express emotions in a more creative manner than I. However, I can see that I was in error.”
McCoy looked at Spock, disbelieving. The… the green-blooded bastard…
It was Leonard’s turn to straighten his spine and, squaring his jaw, he replied while Spock was turning to enter the shop again. “You’re right, Spock. After all, I can’t let you choose the wrong item, can I? Jim could get hurt, and it’s my duty as CMO to see to the Captain’s health.”
Marching in grimly as if he was going to his death, the surgeon entered the shop, leaving a dumbfounded Vulcan in the doorway.
Either he has miscalculated the probability, or he should really write that paper about the theory of probability and humans (and the inapplicability of).
Disbelieving, Spock looked at the doctor, who was analyzing the same tentacled potato he had been earlier, trying to decide what Surak would have done given the same situation. However, since he was completely unable to picture Surak in this situation, he rejected the thought as pointless.
Before he or the doctor could say anything, a sweet voice startled them. “Welcome to the Galaxy Best Selection Sex Shop. I am Diana, what can I do for you?”
Both of them turned. The young female walking towards them was of Caitian ancestry, but her features were considerably more human, save for the feline ears twitching in her auburn hair. Another species, or a hybrid, possibly, Spock thought. She was smiling at them, purring softly.
The doctor talked while he was busy debating the creature… Diana’s, origins.
“My friend here is searching for some… ‘creative ways to express emotions’, to use with a human male,” he replied, flashing Diana a radiant smile. Dimly, Spock recalled that felinoid creatures, not unlike the one in front of him, were once common in human erotic imagery. Less dimly, he thinned his lips and set his expression in stone, hearing his own words being thrown back at him. Really. English was a fascinating language.
Diana smiled back at the doctor, then looked at him with eyes the same colour as 70% cocoa chocolate.
“Ah… I understand. And what would said ‘human male’,” she winked at Leonard, “like, do you think?”
Spock gaped in horror for exactly 0.84 seconds (which was 0.83 seconds too long, although he found 0.01 seconds of horror to be acceptable given such a… a… highly illogical idea. The cause was sufficient).
The doctor’s gaping lasted 5.73 seconds longer, and Spock was 89% certain McCoy hadn’t noticed his reaction.
“Miss Diana, I fail to see how you arrived at such an illogical assumption. My bondmate is not present. I had requested Doctor McCoy’s advice,” (inward sigh) “as I now would kindly request yours.”
The young girl nodded, as did McCoy, the latter spluttering something unintelligible with a still-horrified expression.
“I understand. Pray, follow me then. The Human section is not here. Those are for Ma’aranth, who are, of course, the majority of our customers.”
Turning gracefully, she proceeded past the shop’s red lights (an interesting choice), passing in front of many shelves full of items he couldn’t place (and some he didn’t want to). After 1.1 minutes, she turned again, wagging the point of her dark brown tail at them.
“Here it is. Tell me, do you have any ideas? I might be able to help,” she offered, smiling again.
Spock looked at the doctor’s stunned expression, noticing that he appeared two shades whiter than before and replied, “I do not, Miss Diana. Thank you, we will call for you should the need arise.”
The young woman nodded and, smiling, retreated to another part of the shop.
Spock turned his back on the doctor to examine a wide selection of imitation human phalluses in different sizes and materials. He raised an eyebrow. Fascinating. Some of them had protuberances and other had remote controls. Some had both. Indeed, he hadn’t thought there would be so much choice. Humans really were an imaginative race. His eyes were drawn to a particular one, made in ‘plastic-metal’, what his shipmates referred to as polymetallurgical, an interesting material choice… its unequalled ability to conduct heat would probably stimulate the… receiver, in a peculiar way. He had just taken it to analyze it further, when the Doctor made a sound.
Ah. The doctor.
“So, Spock. Tell me, do you want a… uh… one of…” Spock turned twenty one degrees to his right, looking at the red-faced surgeon. He raised an eyebrow. Fascinating.
“Yes, I was considering purchasing one of these fake phalluses. However, I am uncertain it would to be the wisest action. Neither I nor Jim have ever… Doctor, this is not the proper way to answer my statement… Doctor?”
Spock wondered if the illogicality of humans reached a peak, and then descended in the manner of a bell-curve, and perhaps the doctor was somewhere towards the summit of the ascending slope. Doctor McCoy, esteemed CMO of the Federation Flagship, had just put his hands over his ears and was chanting, remarkably off-key, “La-la-la-la… I’m not listening to you, La-la-la-la…”
Spock waited, growing concerned. There might be some unknown quality of the planet, or the shop, air dangerous to humans. He dismissed the idea when the doctor looked at him again and, seeing Spock’s lips had stilled, removed his hands from his ears.
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow.
McCoy breathed deeply. “I have no… no intention of ever knowing any particular about yours and Jim’s sex life. Ever.”
Spock was just about to answer about the illogicality of that statement, that if the doctor hadn’t wanted to know, then he should never have agreed to enter the shop in the first place. However, before he could point this out, McCoy must have pressed some kind of remote activation, because the fake phallus in his hands started to vibrate. He looked down, raising an eyebrow.
“Fascinating. I can see its use now.”
Spock ignored the doctor’s sigh, and studied the object with more care.
“So, if you’ve chosen can we go now?” The doctor seemed relieved, but Spock merely raised an eyebrow.
“I have not yet made my choice, Doctor. I believe I will not purchase this item. I can understand its use, however, I was thinking of something less… invasive.”
He was not pleased to see McCoy close his eyes in despair. Really. Revenge is, after all, illogical.
Less invasive. Jesus. Where’s some good whiskey when you need it? Really, even a childish, god-like entity or a Klingon invasion would be a welcome distraction (not as welcome as the whiskey, but better than this. Even dress uniform was better than this!)
The doctor looked at the green blooded hobgoblin, trying to remember how he had put himself in this situation. Ah yes. The pointed ear bastard had challenged him.
Sighing, he looked around and took a small package, handing it to Spock.
“Here. This is less invasive. Can we go now?” The Vulcan calmly put the dildo back in its place, taking the box and raising an eyebrow. He read the description in standard and nodded.
“Ah. A Vibrating Ring for…”
It was McCoy’s turn to be gleeful, seeing the logical first officer getting a little greener. So he was human enough to blush. The doctor stored the information away for later use and nodded, trying to look gruff and to forget he was in a sex shop with Spock. He fervently hoped nobody had seen him enter the place.
Jesus. Better make that whiskey a double one.
“Yes. A vibrating ring for… exactly what it says. Can we go now?”
He looked back at Spock, choking on his own saliva when he saw the Vulcan carefully looking at the measurements on the package. He closed his eyes again, put his right hand over them and counted to ten, feeling his cheeks burn. Only a Vulcan could go into a sex shop and act like he was calibrating instruments…
“Really Doctor. I see no reason to blush. Am I to understand you have a previous knowledge of—?”
“Don’t go there, Spock. Just don’t. Buy the goddamn ring so we can go somewhere else.” (To a place that serves alcohol. A lot of it.)
Spock nodded, turned around and paused.
“Well?” Leonard growled. Then, he saw the tilt of the black head and closed his eyes again. Damned Vulcan curiosity.
“Fascinating. I do not understand why this item is here.”
McCoy looked at what Spock was eyeing. It was a small, pointed clasp, not unlike an ear clip. It was displayed in front of a series of very small boxes with writing in Vulcan and Standard.
“Why do you think it’s here?” the doctor replied, wishing they could just leave. He took one of the boxes, and started to read. A slow smile crept over his face.
“Ohhhh… Vulcan Ear-Point Clasps… to maximize the receiver’s pleasure… Why, Mr Spock. I didn’t know your species use sex toys!” McCoy said with glee. Spock’s face remained calm and he shook his head.
“I assure you, Doctor. Those are ancient Terran items used to hang wet clothes. My mother once explained it to me as a child when I discovered similar items in our house…” The words died on Vulcan lips and Spock went pale with shock, his dark eyes widening.
McCoy’s smile grew even wider. “Why, Spock… I didn’t know your parents…”
He couldn’t end the phrase, since the Vulcan had turned his back and fled, almost running, towards the exit, the… ‘vibrating rings’ still in his hands.
McCoy chuckled and, with his smile threatening to split his face in two, looked at the price of the Vulcan Ear-Point Clasp… another gift for his best friends.
He loved that hobgoblin after all. Deep, deep down.
James T. Kirk, Captain of the USS Enterprise, was having trouble sitting on The Chair.
He smiled ruefully, trying to banish happy thoughts of the previous night. Good thing they were still in orbit around Ma’aran. The crew needed to have some leisure time, and a little bit of… unwinding wasn’t bad thing.
He looked at Spock, appreciatively eyeing the ass bent over the science station, the pulse of fondness and love he sent trough their shared bond making Spock turn to him, a soft look in his dark eyes.
He smiled at his Vulcan bondmate. Spock could always surprise him, like last night… Oh yes, last night…
He focused on the screen, trying not to blush, remembering the ring, and most especially the clasps, those kinky Vulcan sex toys. He never would have guessed it. Spock had blushed green when he had opened Bones’ gift and had refused to explain why.
A colourful string of epithets streamed from the turbolift as a sputtering Bones stormed onto the bridge, looking murderous… well, more murderous than usual. At Spock, of course.
He seemed unable to continue. Jim got up with care from The Chair and looked at his CMO.
“Bones? No scenes on the bridge,” he warned, glancing at his bondmate who appeared to be more than a little smug. He sighed inwardly. Sometimes being between them was like being in kindergarten all over again.
Bones looked at him and, fuming, exited as he had entered: muttering.
Used to such scenes, the bridge crew went back to their jobs, but the Captain caught an amused, “Children… just like children.” from Uhura and smiled at her. The Communication Officer smiled back at him, shrugging her shoulders before going back to her work.
He walked over to Spock, raising an eyebrow, a gesture learnt from his bondmate.
“I believe the doctor has discovered my Christmas gift,” Spock explained, deadpan, keeping his face averted, eyes on the data upload he was supervising.
“I thought you gave him a very old bottle of whiskey,” he commented. He had been present when Spock had chosen the vintage gift and had been surprised at how much Spock had paid for it. Deep down, Spock loved Bones and considered him his friend... a kindergarten kind of friend.
Spock nodded, without turning. He didn’t want Jim to see his face now, and carefully controlled the bond. His T’hy’la could be most perceptive.
“Yes. I used our stop at Ma’aran to acquire second gift,” Spock replied evenly, and his mouth twitched.
It had been worth the morning call (encrypted. Very well encrypted) to the Galaxy Best Selection Sex Shop to order the present for Doctor McCoy. He had calculated an 89.65% probability that the inflated doll he’d left sitting on the good doctor’s office chair where all his staff could see it, would get exactly that reaction.
But there was no need for Jim to know that.
He didn’t want revenge for the Vulcan Ear-Point Clasps. Not at all.
Revenge is illogical.