Humans were persistent. Very persistent. Spock worked at a library situated in a federation colony called Enterprise. He was working in the federation authorized library that had all that a book lover would want to find. Copies of every book imaginable. They were in  paper, hard back, and in pad format. Spock enjoyed reorganizing the books in the front after the fleet of visitors ended. That is where most of the traffic went. The library usually closed at five thirty-six Delta Night.  He enjoyed his occupation. Been serving as the librarian for well over twelve years, three months,  nine hours, and forty-three minutes. And ever since the beginning of 2265, there has been two colonists who have at attended the library without fail in the early morning.

Kirk looked over from the novel over toward his friend, McCoy, who was holding a well aged, falling apart novel.

"Bones, look," Kirk gestured toward the elderly novel in the man's hand. "your book is ruined."

 "No, it's not," McCoy insisted.

 "The library can always get a new one," Kirk replied.

 "It's not damaged, it's perfectly fine," McCoy denied, as pieces of the hard back of the book fell.

 "Bones," Kirk repeated.

The doctor growled.

"This is a rare book to find and I doubt that the library will find a new one," McCoy grumbled. "of anythin', it will have to be retyped up, this is the last copy."

 "You know that isn't true," Kirk said.

"I did my research," McCoy said.

 "Shhhh," came a monotone, deep, and rich voice from across. Kirk  looked over lovingly back at the source of the voice with one hand cupping the side of his face.

McCoy licked the back end of the piece and stuck it back in.

 "There," McCoy whispered. "All better now."

The security officer had a dreamily sigh.

"Much," Kirk said, in a low voice.

"Damn it, Jim!" McCoy whispered harshly smacking his fist on the table without a sound. "Ask him out all ready," he glared at the startled man staring at his direction. "I'm a doctor, not a passive bystandin' reader."

Kirk looked over toward the doctor with raised eyebrows.

"All right, Dr Phil," Kirk said. "Maybe before I leave."

"Ya better," McCoy said, returning to his reading.

If there was one thing that could be counted on for the rest of humanity: persistence. McCoy lowered the book and gently closed it. He looked down toward his personal padd sticking halfway out of his pocket to see the time. He had to get to work in the next fifteen minutes. God knows what idiots have fallen into. He stood up and slowly slid the chair into the table looking down upon his trusted companion. He made his way over toward the desk. Spock was always there. Every single day without fail. McCoy liked to hang out with his new found best friend. It was the highlight of his day asides to being in surgery for at leas two to five hours to ten hours depending on what the operation was for. He placed the book onto the table.

"Uh, you, um, may, er, want to, uh," The Vulcan's brown eyes stared into the man's light blue ones. "ask the kid out for a date. I don't want to spend the rest of my time here with that infant pining on you and distractin' me!" he leaned forward with both hands on the table with a twitching eyebrow. "I don't care how it ends up. I rather have some quality time with my friend who doesn't need to pin anymore."

The Vulcan nodded.

Quite logical to get rid of a problem, Spock thought,

"I will consider that, doctor," Spock replied.  

A smile grew on the doctor's face as he relaxed.

"Thank ya," McCoy said, leaning up.  "See ya tomorrow, hobgoblin."

The doctor left and Spock looked over the book to finally notice the pages were falling apart. Both eyebrows rose up vanishing before the hair line. The Vulcan looked bewildered at the direction that McCoy had gone.  It was almost like the pages were turned highly delicate, precious pieces of china. The conversation that he had overheard was not exaggerating the condition of the paper. More like the equivalent of toilet paper. The Vulcan took out several baggies from the desk and began to put the loose pages into their own bag in order. He started by tens. He did with great care. He had a scanner that digitized pieces of paper and turned them into documents which could be converted into readable text. Miss Uhura, one of the colonys many translator, often had her services used to help Spock translate documents into English for the library and she kept up well. He looked up to see  Jim putting away his novel, carefully, well taken care of and read.

Kirk always put the novels back where he found them.

On the weekends, Kirk and McCoy did not always come in.

Which is the part where Spock did the extensive organizing for the next week.

The human's pink large hands grazed down the spine of a large historical novel that was new and had recently came in. Kirk took it out and read the summery at the back. A beaming, lovely smile grew on the younger man's face. His hazel eyes flickering, smiling even. He lowered the book closing it gently. He came forward to the desk with the book pressed along his waist. Spock paused his current action placing the novel to the side. The human placed the novel onto the desk. Spock took out the scanner. Kirk slid his library card onto  the counter alongside the large, heavy novel. Spock's hand slid forward toward the ID card where Jim's fingers rested. A surge of powerful, explosive passionate emotions stung through the two men rippling through the security officer's being. Jim slid his hand back as his face turned a shade of pink.

"I am sorry about that," Kirk said.

"It is my fault," Spock replied. "I reached out too soon," He slid it forward in his direction and used the scanner on the strip of bar under the picture of the man. On the computer screen appeared a list of books the human had checked out and returned. "It is unwise to apologize for what is not your fault, Jim," the man relaxed around him. Grew comfortable. Exactly what Spock wanted. "Vulcans have faster reflexes than humans."

Kirk smiled back at him, half in amusement and half in love.

"You just agreed with me,"  Kirk said.

"Would you like to go on a date at six-thirty three delta night?" Spock asked.

Kirk raised his eyebrows at the Vulcan then lowered them.

"I would be honored to be your date,"  Kirk said. "my house or the Italian restaurant?"

"Italian," Spock said. "Extraordinaire."

Kirk nodded.

 "I love Italian," Kirk said. "always hits the spot," he rubbed where his abdomen was. "The one on Lousey street?"

 "Archer Street, T'Pol Avenue," Spock said, sliding the book back once he scanned the bar code. "Next month, on the fifth, you must return the novel."

"I will make sure to do just that," Kirk said, taking the novel. "my friend asked you, didn't he?"

"Asked what?" Spock asked.

"To go on a date with me," Kirk said, putting the library card into his wallet.

"Negative," Spock said. "I share a liking to you,"  Kirk grew surprised. "Not like any ordinary likings I have developed in day to day life experiences," the Vulcan shook his hand. "and I would like to explore the unusual attraction I have for you."

Kirk eased.

"I will see you tonight after work," Kirk said.

Spock gave the ta'al.

"Live long and prosper," Spock said, earning a return gesture.

"Peace and long life," Kirk said, then he left.

And Spock resumed putting the novel into the baggies each marked with a number on how best to order them. There was a warm feeling growing in the Vulcan's chest. Humans and Andorians went through the doorway as their voices lowered. Spock looked up keeping his attention alert for anyone taking a novel without returning. He already had one book that was over due by six months and thirty days. That was seventy-three federation credits in total. Spock was beginning to feel that the reader had lost the novel. That novel was still in the care of Montgomery Scott, one of many mechanics around the city.

"Oh come on," Spock's roommate, Hikaru Sulu, had started. "it's not even messed up."

"You are complaining regarding the mess there is in your book shelf," Spock said.

"For the sake of complaining!" Sulu said. "it's fine."

Spock glared in the direction of the Asian man.

"Negative," Spock said. "I will not rest until it has been taken care of."

"Spock, Spock, Spock," Sulu said. "you have a date to go on."

"In thirty-three minutes," Spock said, sitting criss-crossed on a soft, warm stuffy blanket.

"And that is all you are wearing?" Sulu asked, staring at the ugly greenish brown sweater and black yoga pants.

"It is sufficient," Spock said.

"No, it's not," Sulu said, with a shake of his head. "Are you trying to have  a bad night?"

Spock raised a dark, slanted eyebrow.

"Illogical," Spock said.

"Hold on," Sulu said. "I got a better one that isn't knitted by your mother for Hanukah."

"How do you know it was made for Hanukah?" Spock inquired.

"It practically screams that way," Sulu said, leaving the living room. "I'll be overjoyed when you get bonded and move out."

"As would I," Spock said. "Though I feel it would not happen any time soon."

"Hope is a very powerful thing in the darkest of all situations," Sulu's voice was carried through the apartment. "it ain't dark here but you'll get a household all to yourself. Imagine that!"

"I can imagine that," Spock said, lowering his voice. "And the idea is not entertaining."

He resumed his way organizing the books.

It was a rather easy task to do.

Spock heard the man's whistling which hurt his ears.

Clear, sharp, and high pitched.

Sulu came back with a new pair of clothes placing them onto the arm rest of the couch alongside the Vulcan. Spock looked over to see a  long sleeved buttoned up shirt with shapes of clams, a black shirt that had sleeves that ended at the top of the shoulder, and a pair of pants that ended below the knee. It reminded the Vulcan of the science uniform seen commonly from officers who were off starships. Spock resumed his task organizing the books  as Sulu put in a sex tape. Familiar music began to play drifting into the usually innocent room. Spock stiffened, recognizing the cooes and cries of Orion females that sounded  horny. He quickened his task  then took the attire with him. Sulu smiled, looking over his shoulder.

"Have a good date!" Sulu called then turned his attention toward the Orion male couple making out on the screen.

Spock entered the spare room that he had changed into a ready made 'digital converter'. Pages of the novel were waiting to be slid into the machine. Spock had to be there on time so it was elected that he get dressed first, properly. He slid the comfortable, warm yoga pants off  then took off the sweater. It was freezing in here. Spock rubbed his shoulders. He was a hairy man. Hairy as they came. Spock looked down at the shorts. It was more recommended to wear boots that kept his legs warm. He carefully became dressed then went over to start the process sliding the paper onto the top of the machine. He delicately turned the page over once the shining blue light emitted on the screen. He did this again and again.

"Spock!" Sulu's voice was carried through the apartment. "You don't want to be late for that date."

 "Relax, Spock," Uhura said over the comn.  "it's going to be fine."

"Have you ever dated the person of your gender before?" Spock prodded.

 "Yes," Uhura said.

"This is a first for me," Spock admitted.

"YOu, never, wow, I--uh," Uhura started laughing. "'Maybe he is new at this too. Stumble together like idiots for what the universe cares. He'll love it if he wants to go on a date with you."

"Do you really think so?"  Spock asked, unsure.

"Sugah, I am on my thirty-second date with my wife-to-be next year," Uhura said. "trust the expert."

Spock nodded his head.

"I will endeavor to act natural," Spock said.

 "Good," Uhura said. "Make your queen proud."  

"I will, Miss Uhura," Spock said. "Spock out."

Spock closed the communicator placing it into his right pant pocket. He straightened  his shirts as he came to the front of the line behind two other customers. Traffic was dwindling in the restaurant for the night. The next waiter guided a pair of Loches to their table. They were two well dressed men with their arms linked appearing to be glowing. He had his hands locked behind his back. His left hand wrapped around his right hand's wrist. He had successfully turned down the Vulcan Academy of Science for his acceptance. He had gone against his fathers wishes of becoming a Ambassador. He could surely do this. There were a hundred ways this date could go downhill. His mother was always proud of him no matter what he did.

Unlike Sarek and Sybok's relationship, the rift between  father and son was done without banishment from Vulcan. Spock took out  a small padd that he had checked out with a Vulcanian novel regarding his forefather Solkar and  Uncle Zeframe. It was written by a source close to the two men, a woman, perhaps but no one would ever be sure who. It was carefully crafted and wonderfully worded. Realistic to the eye regarding the thoughts, actions, and characteristics including the handshake that made Solkar hang around Earth for a long time that lead to a incident in the open marriage.  His father never talked about it but Solkar was still hung up over the loss of Zeframe until his dying day. His forefather's actions reassured him that it was logical to feel the way this was. It was a completely natural feeling that everyone went through when courting humans.

"Mr Spock," the waiter said. Spock looked up, pausing his reading. "here for the seven thirty arrangement?"

"Indeed," Spock said. The waiter wore a bright, wide smile with all her teeth showing. Pretty white series of teeth. He could see her gums. Pink and well kept. He did not know a human could smile that wide. The waitress had blonde hair in a bun as her pink lips looked thin to the sight. 
 
"Right this way," the waiter said, and Spock turned the padd off putting it into his pocket.

Spock followed the woman along the path of tables where couples that had more than two people. His nose was assaulted by the smell of spaghetti in its different formats. He inwardly groaned at the delicious scent emanating from the room that contrasted and compared with one another. He smelled gourmet mushroom risotto, Jamie's Minestrone, Spinach Tomato Tortellini, Chicken Parmesan, Italian Sausage-peppers-and onions, and Anitpasto Pasta Salad to name a few. The side dishes were further more amazing. The sight of Meatball Sandwich made his stomach churn in disgust. The Brooklyn Girl's Penne Arrabiata looked delicious on the other hand. The Creamy Pesto Shrimp had a flair to it that looked delicious to a Vulcan. It was unfortunate that most of these variations were made on Earth. He came to a stop when he saw Kirk sitting in a chair with one hand on the back end of it and his nose dug into a small novel that had the curled text on the front that he had checked out only hours ago. A warm feeling swam through the Vulcan's being as he sat down across from the commander at the table.

"You will get a waiter who will take your orders, soon," the waiter said, earning a glance from the young commander.

Kirk lowered his novel placing a bookmark into it looking at the direction of Spock.

"Why hello there, Mr Spock," Kirk said, placing the book along his chair at the left hand side.  The waiter left the two men. "Ah, you went with casual," he leaned back in a golden shirt  that seemed half ready to rip before the man's eyes and he looked so comfortable in it despite the obvious tightness. He was comfortable in his skin. "What a surprise we chose  the same attire."

"I had mine chosen for me by my roommate," Spock said.

"Hm?"  Kirk raised an eyebrow. "I didn't take you for a roommate kind of person."

"It was a logical arrangement," Spock said. "why are you  not in space?"

Kirk lifted his foot up to show a prosthetic.

"Double amputee," Kirk said. "bad fight with a Klingon."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"That is a interesting chain of events," Spock said.

"You?" Kirk asked.

"Personal reasons," Spock said.

"Guess we both got baggage to fill a novel," Kirk said, then picked up the menu.

"Did you leave Star Fleet with the reason that you would be a vulnerable crewmember due to the ability to have your legs being taken off and be compromised?" Spock inquired.

"Yes, actually," Kirk said. "and you?"

"It was  my love for organizing books that kept me planetside," Spock said, picking up the menu off the table.

"If my love for books were that strong, I probably be doing the same," Kirk said. "books help me escape the reality I am stuck with."

The Vulcan's eyes looked over the menu toward the man then turned his eyes toward the menu. Was there more to the story? Did the young commander have a form of PTSD that only effected him on starships and away missions? If so, stationing themselves planet side as a security officer was a logical move to help himself recover and adapt easily to his new way of life.  He wanted to reach out and hold the man in his arms and tell him that everything was not the way he thought it was. And that it would get better. Which had been getting better for the man.

Spock had seen the man be watchful and tense on his first days here.

Looking over his shoulder every once in awhile like someone was going to come out and kill him.

That began to die down when the good doctor started joining him three days in.

 Part of Spock thought it was odd that a human enjoy silence as much as he did.

Humans were incredibly persistent to normalize their lives and whatever hindered them. It became their new normal. It is partially what made them a feared predatory species on Earth and the known galaxy for being able to survive almost everything thrown at them. Animals they normally hunted feared them and so did bugs. Humans were persistent. Kirk was no exception to it as his hazel eyes searched the three screens.  His fingers swipping on the middle screen notable. The Vulcan made sure to note to approach with as much sound as possible which is why he wore squeaky shoes. Didn't hurt his hearing as much as a dog whistle did. Spock was proof of such persistence.

"Hmm. . . "

The Vulcan's eyes landed on Hearty Tuscan Linguine.

"Hmm.  ."

His eyes drifted over to the drinks.

"Well, that's too spicy," Kirk remarked. "Nah, not going to get that."

Water, he'll get water to help.  

"Jim," Spock said, drawing the human's attention as he lowered the menu.  "you went to the fifteenth page all ready?"

"What can I say?" Kirk asked. "I am a picky eater."

"Fast reader, you mean," Spock said.

Kirk nodded.

"Yes," Kirk said.

"Do you like spaghetti?" Spock asked.

"I love Italian," Kirk said, leaning forward. He beamed before the Vulcan.  "my favorite dish."

"Have you ever tried Pasta Pomodoro?" Spock asked.

"No," Kirk said. "Never heard of it."

"A dish with easy and light pasta with tomatoes and garlic. Cooked, soft chicken breast pieces and shrimp are added to the saucer to make it even more enticing." A smile grew on the commander's face.

 "I love Italian and so do you," Kirk said.

 Spock tilted his head with the menu on the table and his arms folded with his head tilted.

 "Why I do," Spock said. "I am well versed in the worst and the best of Italian."

Kirk was flabbergasted.

"Sure you were not going in to be a cook?" Kirk asked. The Vulcan straightened his head appearing to be baffled  by the question. "Sorry, trick question," he shook his hand with a slight smile. "And why are you versed into  Italian recipes?"

"I once had to do a project regarding Italy's involvement in the food industry," Spock said. "as punishment for being un-Vulcan like."

"Punched a kid for insulting your family?" Kirk asked

"Indeed," Spock said.

"That is Vulcan like," Kirk said.

"But illogical," Spock said. "violence is illogical."

"Look, Mr  Spock," Kirk said. "in some cultures, it is a must to defend your families honor.  A right even."

"Did you?" Spock asked.

"A few times," Kirk said. "But mostly when it came to my Uncle Frank," he shared a smile at the Vulcan. "You did the right thing, even if it wasn't logical by  Vulcan standards. . ." 'It was logical to marry your mother', the words rang through the Vulcan's mind.  Kirk dipped his hands together as the menu was laid on the table. "I don't support violence or preach it," he dipped his flat merged hands to the side. "but I have to use it in my occupation. Because it's the right thing to do. Now that's controversial as it was back then and still will be."

"You make a nice parallel," Spock said.

Kirk shrugged.

"It just comes to me, I guess,"  Kirk said. "I have been told I would make a excellent captain one day. . . guess that will never happen," he had a short laugh. "Only in my dreams," he had a comforted smile at the thought. "What about you?"

"I go in all the career tracks, apparently," Spock said. "but science, mostly," he paused, in contemplation. "books, too, help me. . . but they help me with my reality and assure me."

"Everyone is different when it comes to books," Jim said. "Me? Historical novels, my favorite, my cat nip, my Rose to my Jack, and my Juliet to my Romeo."

"I like Romeo and Juliet," Spock said. "and Shakespeare."

Kirk's jaw nearly fell.

"Are you kidding?" Kirk asked. "I love that man."

"Not at all," Spock said.

"I think I found my soulmate,"  Kirk said, as his eyes lit up earning a tilted head from Spock.

The waiter arrived.

"Orders please?" The waiter asked.  It was a nice start to a date.

Their date ended on a good note. Spock drove the man to his quarters (since Kirk had actually walked his way to the restaurant) via his motorcycle. The motorcycle's sand like texture had faded into light gray. Being driven by a Vulcan on a motorcycle was probably the hotest thing to happen in the man's lifetime. Good thing the Vulcan had purchased two motorcycle helmets after getting the motorcycle upon being assigned to the newly developing colony. The city once a small town was bustling with life. Kirk's hands were wrapped around the Vulcan's waist.  The Vulcan parked in the motorcycle lane feeling the grip had not relaxed. Spock looked over taking  his helmet off.

"Jim," Spock said. "Jim."

Kirk slowly awakened as the Vulcan took his helmet off.

"Yes, babe?" Kirkly tiredly asked.

Kirk's eyes opened to see the messy raven hair that blended into the night and his brown eyes staring right back. The moonlight left star like impressions making the Vulcan glow before the commander.  He could hear something regarding "Your quarters are in reach." and he felt so tired. Words slipped off his tongue that were more along the lines of "you are gorgeous" than "your hair is messy". The Vulcan's cheeks turned a shade of dark green that the human couldn't see well in the dark. The Italian food had hit the spot, truly, it had. Kirk yawned sliding right over. Spock's helmet was in the large pocket to the side of the motorcycle. Spock reached out catching the human with one hand on his back and the other hand underneath the thigh of his leg. His eyes reopened  as he realized the position that the Vulcan had fallen into.

Immediately, a exhausted and tired blush grew on the man's face.

He was too tired to talk.

Spock supported the man back onto his feet and had one hand on his shoulder as they made their way to the inside of the building. Kirk's hand was wrapped around the man's thigh feeling the length, long build compared to his short, pudgy figure. Oh, he had hit the jack pot. Why him out of millions other people lingering in the galaxy? Soulmates, possibly. The Vulcan went to the elevator and pressed a button that read second floor. Elevator music played. It made him even more sleepy with a yawn. His blonde hair was messy nearly covering his left eye. His golden hair almost glowed when the lights hit it. Spock admired the young man who appeared to be adorable half awake and half asleep. Spock restrained the urge to kiss him all over.

He did not have that right without having expressed, explicit permission from the young man.

The elevator doors opened. Spock made his way down the hall passing by Gary Mitchelle who was making it perfectly to his quarters from another turbo lift. His eyes boggled briefly at the two passing him then he shook his head and resumed his path. He could always ask the security chief in the morning regarding if he had hooked up with a Vulcan. And just how long would it last? Would it even last? Kirk had short flings that lasted a week or less depending on how he befriended them and if they were not his type.  He entered his quarters considering the thought. Spock straightened the  man alongside the door.

"Are you adequate?" Spock asked.

 "I just had the best night in my life," Kirk said. "Eating with you and that dance club. . . That is the best night I ever had."

 "It seems you liked the date," Spock said.

 "Did you?" Kirk asked.

"It was satisfactory," Spock said.

 "On my planet, when we have a good date," Kirk said. "we leave a kiss for next time."

Kirk was almost wide awake when he straightened up, looking barely tired at all, with his hands clenching the Vulcan's shoulders to keep him steaded while Spock's hands were on his waist. Jim leaned forward and managed to plant a kiss on the man's lips that felt warm and fireworks. It felt like fireworks going on inside the Vulcan and so he returned the gesture with closed eyes leaning forward into the kiss. And slowly, the kiss began to stop. The human slid into his grip and his clutch on the shoulders loosened. He slid to the Vulcan's shoulders fallen asleep. Spock entered Kirk's quarters and placed him into the bedroom. He was about to exit when he had seen the disorganized array of old, hard back books. In the morning, when the commander awakened,  the man wasn't bothered when he saw the organized self. It was just too surreal to happen.

It had been no more than three hours since Spock returned from the long date that he had with the commander. Libraries were the heart, the crux, and the center of civilization. They provided safe havens to readers of all types. Sheltered them, even. From neglected, abused, and fugitives. They became their parents, their world, their guidance to plowing on. Sometimes being a librarian in this day and age brought disadvantages to those living with them. Such as poor old Sulu, a Botanist who worked at the Green Garden of Enterprise. Sulu tossed and turned as he heard the machine loud and clear. Furr, faarruu, furrr, zuuurr, faaruuu, zuuur. The sound of the machine was sudden and loud. Sulu bolted up from bed and put on his bright pink robes.  He trudged his way to the private room that Spock had claimed as his own for outside work activities.

Sulu stopped, seeing the Vulcan sitting along in a chair in Vulcan robes.

"Spock, Spock, Spock," Sulu said. "do you know what time it is?"

"Three thirty-four delta morning," Spock said.

"Turn the damn sound off," Sulu said. His eyebrows twitching. His expression faded staring the Vulcan. "Wait. . . you are glowing."

"That I am not," Spock said.

"You had sex," Sulu said.

Spock appeared to be insulted.

"Negative," Spock said. "I become well rested."

"You had a  pretty good date," Sulu said.

"That did happen," Spock said.

"How did a wooden plank like you dance anyway?" Sulu said. "You are a terrible dancer." The memory of a previous dance returned with Spock standing quite still drinking a beverage.

"It appears  I am a natural," Spock said.  The Vulcan had a sigh, shaking his head looking over toward the glowing screen. "What a night."

Sulu's eyes widened as he leaned against the machine.

"You?" Sulu asked. "A natural?" he was in disbelief. "Just unbelievable."

"When you have the life of a party around you, anything is possible, apparently," Spock said. "this logic is flawed but it is the only one that explains it."

"Love does that to people," Sulu said. "it can make anything happen."

"Love," Spock repeated, as though something had clicked in his head. As though he had just realized how hell over heels he was for the human.

Sulu sighed.

"Can you please turn the sound off?" Sulu asked.

Spock nodded.

"I will," Spock said.

"We have a big project to work on regarding sentient plants," Sulu said. "with a bunch of Vulcan scientists," he dismissingly shook his hand. "And there are some Vulcans that you probably never met."

"Are they in their thirties?" Spock said, pressing a button. He turned the paper over and put it back into the machine.

"I suppose so,"  Sulu said.

"Then I know them," Spock said. "The Vulcan School was a highly attended one in my childhood."

"There is T'Pen, T'Pring, T'Sallis, T'Pro, Spirk, Spurk, Spork, and T'Spirk," Sulu listed.

"T'Pring is a respected, well managed Vulcan who can handle a stampede of Sehlats if she was left to her devices," Spock said. "She did it at one time with a piece of stick, a phaser, and three pieces of cotton."

"She . . played.  .  . a . . flute?" Sulu asked.  Spock nodded.

"It worked," Spock said. "they follow her whenever she come around to Vulcan."

"Ah, interesting," Sulu said, then walked out.

"And she will no longer be my bethrothed once this stardate is over," Spock muttered to himself, taking out another piece of paper.

McCoy felt as though he was in the mood for a real, well written novel regarding family. Not the one that he was slowly, yet quickly, in the process of rereading. His memory on the novel was very wavy but he remembered loving it. It made his heart feel whole and together and that everything was right in the world. He entered the library to spot Spock chewing on a apple. He had to start his day on a good start to counter the losses in the hospital. There were accidents, they still happened, tragedies, illnesses that were still being discovered and being learned to treat, and all of that was heavy. So McCoy, each day, started a baseline of good with something. Anything, since his assignment to a hospital on a federation planet, to start his day off.

"Good mornin', Mr Spock," McCoy said.

 "Tonk'peh, Hinek," Spock replied in Vulcan effortlessly while he had both feet stacked on the counter. And something felt different about him.

McCoy went over to the family/humor section of the rows. He tapped his fingers onto the spines of the novels. There were other people visiting not just him. He saw four books that he hadn't seen before. A couple of Lacciev came into the family section that was long and unsettling with its two ladders set side by side. McCoy was afraid of heights. He would never go to the top of it. Never, not in his wildest dream. He tipped out a medium sized thin novel. He turned it over and saw that it was a classic romantic novel in the wrong section that did not relate to family. McCoy slid it back in the row of books.

He tipped out the slightly wider novel.

Halloween Town: The Original Disney movie novelization.

A smile brightened on the doctor's face.  

He turned it over and saw the list of the cast names in a small box with Debbie Reynolds name in bright golden text.  He went over to the desk that was starting to get crowded and began his read. It was amusing, that was a first. A smile slowly grew on the doctors face as he passed page by paged. He looked up sensing the security officer---and he was glowing. McCoy looked over toward the Vulcan whose eyes were on the human. They  were both glowing. Both of them were glowing at once. The human man leaned against the counter speaking softly and low that the doctor couldn't hear but it probably had to be a comment among the lines of "Your turn to find our next date spot" with one hand on the side of his waist and his hand trickled over to the Vulcan's hand left on the wooden desk.

McCoy had never seen a Vulcan's face turn that green before.

And all was right in the world as he turned his attention back into the light hearted novel.

Kirk slid beside him.

"Hey Bones, did you hear that there's suddenly been a new source of your favorite book?" Kirk asked, sliding in unexpectedly with his novel.

"Actually, no," McCoy said. "And you are welcome."

"I could have done it my own," Kirk said.

"Nah, ya would not have," McCoy said. "not a chance," he shook his head. "If I had left it up to ya, it would have taken fifty-one years for thin's to start rollin', and, shhh." He placed one finger onto his lips turned in the direction of the security officer.

The End.