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Why You Gotta Waste My (Vulcan) Flavor?

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“Looks like someone’s applying to the Vulcan Science Academy.” McCoy nudged Sulu in the side and gestured across the room. Sulu looked over to see Jim Kirk giving himself the Vulcan salute in a mirror.

“Come on, McCoy, do you have to rag on everyone?”

“Oh please. Look at him.”

They watched as Kirk arched an eyebrow, then turned to check out his profile and reached up to pinch the top of his ear.

“His wardrobe alone leaves him open for public mockery.”

Indeed, Sulu had been somewhat taken aback to see that Kirk had accessorized his standard cadet uniform with a Vulcan-style robe.

Sulu turned back to McCoy with a smirk. “I’m not the one who had lunch with him in the mess hall every day for an entire semester.”

“That was first semester, Sulu. He sat next to me on the shuttle, what was I supposed to do? Anyway, want to talk about who your friends were first semester?”

Sulu frowned, then clutched at McCoy’s arm excitedly. “Oh my god, look, there he is! No, don’t look at him!” Sulu took a few deep breaths. “I’m going to go talk to him.”

“Great, you do that. You rob that cradle.”

“Shut up, he’s almost 17.”

“Exactly. Almost 17.”

“Look, will you be alright if I leave you here?”

McCoy crossed his arms, and tried to act like this wasn’t the first social function he’d attended at Starfleet Academy. “Yeah, sure, sure, I’ll be fine. Go.” He watched Sulu press through the crowd, pasted on his “don’t touch me” sneer, and headed for the nearest keg.


“Excuse me.”

Uhura turned around to find Jim Kirk standing next to her, his hands behind his back and his face held in a completely neutral expression.

“Can I help you?”

“It is my understanding that the purpose of social gatherings such as this one is to identify and proposition a suitable mate.”

“Um…I have to wash my hair.”

“You did not complete your personal hygiene regimen before departing your residence this evening?”

“Yeah, no…sorry.”

“Illogical,” Kirk muttered as Uhura walked away.


“How is your research into interspecies relations proceeding?” Riley asked, brushing an invisible speck of dirt from his black robe.

“Quite well, thank you. In one-point-two minutes I have a rendezvous with a particularly studious Orion in the research lab.”

“Fascinating. I have never encountered a studious Orion.” Riley scanned the room and turned back to Jim with a raised eyebrow. “Vulcans are not prone to fabrication, T’Kirk.”

“May I inquire, T’Kevin, as to whether you find it a logical use of your time to interfere in my pursuit of scientific knowledge? I suggest you spend some time in meditation to reflect on my inquiry.” Jim resisted the urge to stomp his foot and walked away with his head held high.


McCoy was standing against the wall scowling at the room, when a vaguely familiar looking cadet approached him. He straightened up and nodded politely to the cadet.

“Excuse me,” the cadet asked, “but haven’t I seen you around the Academy Med Center?”

McCoy nodded slowly, placing the face now, and feeling somewhat relieved that he’d have someone to talk to for a few minutes. “Yeah. Yeah, I think you might have been a patient of mine…”

“HA!” The cadet turned around and called across the room to his friends, “I told you this was the doctor who treated my space herpes!” His friends laughed as he walked back to them, and McCoy watched him retreat into the crowd as a feeling that he refused to recognize as disappointment settled in his gut.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, and moved away from the wall, pressing his way through the crowd to look for something stronger to drink.


Kirk was searching the buffet table for vegetarian options when he heard voices behind him.

“…and then he started crying and telling me he loved me and asking me to talk about my feelings. Ugh. Why can’t I find someone who sees the logic in mutual sexual satisfaction without the complication of emotions?”

Kirk raised an eyebrow as someone else responded.

“I know. It’s like, why can’t you find a…a Vulcan or something.”

Kirk spun around so fast that his robe knocked several mini-quiches onto the floor. He stepped closer to the angry cadet. “I beg your pardon, but with my acute sense of hearing I was unable to avoid becoming privy to your distress. May I ask a personal query?”

“Uh…I guess?”

“Might you consider joining me in the research lab for a discussion of Xenobiology?”

The cadet looked at her friend, popped her gum, and shrugged. “Sure.”

Kirk started to smile but quickly schooled his expression. It really took more effort than it should not to grin at the thought of his potential conquest, but he managed. Although…

“If you would excuse me for a moment, there is something I must attend to. I will return in seven-point-three minutes to accompany you to the lab.”

Kirk spun on his heel and made his way to out of the room and down the hall, only to encounter a group of female cadets huddling outside the bathroom.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” one of them said as he approached. “We just saw a Tallaxian come out – the air will probably be toxic for another ten minutes.”

Kirk curled his lip ever-so-slightly and huffed in frustration, before turning away to find a suitable alternate location for his preparations. He wandered aimlessly through the halls for a few minutes before stopping in front of familiar door. He knew that he should not enter – for one thing, it would be a blatant violation of Starfleet regulations. Still, it would be illogical not to take advantage of the opportunity that had presented itself, and he didn’t want to leave the female cadet waiting much longer. Jim almost smiled at his unfailing ability to apply logic to fit his needs, and he entered the override code to Pike’s office.

He went straight to the mirror hanging on the wall and reached into the deep pocket of his Vulcan robe to pull out a comb. His hair was almost long enough to cover his disappointingly rounded ears if he ran the comb through it just so, and he admired himself from several different angles in the mirror before he was satisfied. He reached into the pocket again and pulled out a vial of black hair dye, but only stared longingly at it for a moment and set it down with a sigh. “There is not sufficient time,” he muttered to himself. There was one more thing he’d picked up earlier that day that he was hoping would add to his allure – a light blush that would give his cheeks a slightly greenish tinge. He pulled it out of his pocket and opened it hastily – too hastily, as he lost his grip and the green powder spilled down his front, the majority landing across the front of his cadet trousers. Jim made a grumbled sound of frustration, then took a deep breath to center himself. He knew he must control his emotions and not let his emotions control him. Still, he could not help but be concerned that the cadet would think him incapable of prolonging his release.

Kirk grabbed a tissue from the desk and had begun wiping the green powder off of his crotch when he heard the sound of the keypad and the door swished open, admitting a very angry-looking McCoy. McCoy stopped abruptly at the sight of Jim Kirk, his Vulcan robe askew, and one leg up on Pike’s desk as he did…something…frantically to the crotch of his uniform pants.

“Good God, man!”

“Aghhhhhhhhhh!” Kirk yelled and ran at McCoy, pushing him backwards as the door slid shut. Kirk struck at the keypad in an attempt to get the door open. The result was a shower of sparks and the sound of the door lock clicking into place.

They stared stupidly at the door for a long moment.

“Well, that was illogical,” McCoy murmured.

“It appears that my Vulcan strength has caused me render the door mechanism inoperable,” Jim observed mournfully.

“Yeah, that’s it,” muttered McCoy with a roll of his eyes.

“This would not have happened, had you provided sufficient notice of your intent to enter.”

“Are you kidding me? How was I supposed to know that you’d broken into Pike’s office and were busy - ” he gestured to Kirk’s crotch “ – sprinkling yourself with Vulcan fairy dust.”

Jim straightened up and clasped his hands behind his back. “I was in the process of preparing for a research session with a fellow cadet.”

“A research session?”


McCoy rolled his eyes again and turned to look around the office.

“You did not state your purpose for being here.”

“I know Pike keeps a flask in here somewhere,” McCoy said distractedly, peering at the shelves. “Ah ha!” He pulled a flask from behind a picture frame and shook it, grinning at the sound of liquid sloshing inside.

“A doctor who obsessively seeks out alcohol for the purpose of consuming in excess. Fascinating.”

McCoy uncapped the flask, took a swig, and turned toward Kirk. “Hey Jim, there’s a mirror right there. Why don’t you take a look, okay? You’re human.”

“I am uncertain as to your implications.”

McCoy stared at him with a raised eyebrow, waiting.

“Fine,” Jim said curtly, crossing his arms. “Anyway, I don’t always talk like that.”

“Oh really? Well, I guess you’re okay then.”

Kirk let his posture slump and his mouth curl into a smirk. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What about you, Mr. Scowlypants? Mr. Walking Around Being All ‘I’m a Doctor Not a Socializer‘?”

“I do not say that. And anyway, what do you care? You haven’t really been begging to socialize with me since the end of first semester.”

“Hey, you stopped socializing with me! It appears that you are no longer acquainted- I mean, it’s like, you don’t even know me anymore.”

“I know you,” McCoy said with a gruff chuckle.

“No, you do not – don’t.”

“I know exactly who you are, Jim Kirk. You’re the guy who tossed your motorcycle keys to a mechanic so you could join Starfleet on a whim. You’re the guy who…who went out of his way to try to distract a bitter, grumpy, alcoholic from his fear of flying…and when that didn’t work, you joked that being thrown up on builds character, and you spent an extra hour with me after the shuttle landed before you even thought about going to change your clothes. You’re Jim Kirk, who stopped sitting with me in the mess hall because… because I told you it wasn't the end of the world to not pass a simulation the first time, and because you were trying so hard to get away from your past, that you decided to become a different person – a different species, Jim!” McCoy shook his head and slumped down against the wall, uncapping his flask and taking a long pull.

Jim picked a book up idly from the shelf, not looking at McCoy. “So, were you, like, saving up all that stuff to tell me?”

“When was I supposed to tell you, Jim? When you were ignoring me in the mess hall? When you were submitting a report stating that I was ‘emotionally compromised by my illogical distrust of the integrity of Starfleet vessels’?”

“I didn’t submit a report!”

“Oh right, just like you didn’t request a doctor who ‘specialized in Vulcan anatomy’ for your quarterly physicals.”

“Okay, fine. I told T’Kevi….Kevin Riley to submit a report saying you were emotionally compromised. But I felt really bad afterwards!”

“It’s okay. I kinda told Hikaru Sulu that you threw up on me.” McCoy grinned at the memory.

“That’s not funny!”

McCoy was laughing so hard that he had to recap the flask without even taking a sip. Kirk scowled, but he walked over and slid down to the floor beside McCoy. McCoy handed him the flask without a word.


“You smelled like you hadn’t bathed in a week,” Jim laughed. “Or, no, like you’d bathed that morning…in a barrel of whiskey.”

“Oh, please. Did you see yourself? Your face looked like it’d had a close encounter with a every blunt object in Iowa. And your shirt was covered with the ever-so-appealing combination of dried blood and floor beer.”

Jim shrugged. “Alright, alright. I look better now though, right?”

“Uh huh, sure,” McCoy said sarcastically.


“The robe, Jim? Seriously?”

“What? What’s wrong with the robe?”

“Nothing. If you’re, you know, planning an appearance before the High Council.”

“Fine,” Jim said, pulling off the robe and tossing it to the side. “My turn. Ever hear of not bringing your work to parties with you, Doctor?”


“Is that a hypospray in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Ugh, fine.” McCoy rolled his eyes as he pulled three hyposprays from his pocket and slid them across the floor. He glanced back at Jim and, without really thinking, reached out and rumpled his carefully combed hair.

Jim pulled away with a grimace, then stopped and bit his lip as he met McCoy’s eye for a long moment. Impulsively, he leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the lips.

McCoy’s eyes widened as Jim pulled back and looked down, blushing.

“I, uh…” Jim started, but then McCoy had slid a hand around the back of the neck and pulled him close for another kiss, this one longer, and Jim closed his eyes as McCoy parted his lips and their tongues slid together. Jim whimpered into his mouth, and McCoy was relieved that he seemed to have forgotten his Vulcan aspirations, even more so when Jim leaned into him and reached a hand out to tug at his shirt. McCoy let him pull the shirt up as far as he could without breaking the kiss, then tore away with a moan of protest to pull it over his head. He tossed the shirt to the side as Jim pressed him down onto his back, straddling him and pulling his own shirt over his head.

“Ow, shit,” McCoy said as he landed on something hard. Jim sat up and they laughed awkwardly as McCoy pulled the flask out from under his back. He threw it aside and pulled Jim down on top of him, and they mashed their mouths together again, hot and desperate and only slightly uncomfortable against the hard floor. He felt Jim yanking at his pants and arched his back to let him pull them down, gasping as he felt Jim’s warm fist wrap around his length. Jim stroked him without finesse and ground his own erection against McCoy’s thigh. McCoy pressed into the hot, dry friction of Jim’s fist, finally reaching down to wrap a hand overtop and pump harder as he felt Jim shudder and moan into his chest. McCoy came hard over both of their fists, kissing mindlessly at Jim’s sweat-damp hair until they both lay limp and satiated on the floor.

“Fuck,” McCoy breathed. “That a good enough research session for ya?” he asked with a grin. He rolled over and propped himself on an elbow, running a finger over the top of Jim’s ear. “I have to say,” he whispered, “that was almost as good as sex with a real Vulcan…T’Kirk.”

Jim scowled and pushed McCoy away as he struggled to get up. He stood, reaching down to adjust himself, huffing in annoyance at the wetness seeping through the crotch of his cadet uniform.

“What’s wrong?” McCoy asked from the floor.

“I apologize if you were unsatisfied with the experience.”

“Jim, come on, I was kidding.” He furrowed his brows in confusion as he watched Jim shake off his Vulcan robe and pull it on.

“Perhaps I shall seek out alternative methods of scientific inquiry next time.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” McCoy asked, pulling himself up from the floor as Jim placed various items into the pockets of his robe. “Jim.” McCoy put a hand on his shoulder, but Jim shook him off. “Jim!”

They turned simultaneously as they heard a beeping, then a screeching sound as the door slid slowly open and Captain Pike stood looming in the doorway.

“Gentleman,” he said serenely as Kirk and McCoy gaped stupidly at him. “It is late, and I would love to get back to bed. Please get the hell out of here, and come see me in my office tomorrow afternoon to discuss the consequences of your reckless actions. Kirk, I must admit, with your newfound respect for regulations, I did not expect this.”

Jim nodded bashfully and stepped past him and out the door. McCoy attempted to follow, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm. “Doctor. My flask?”

McCoy scowled and pulled the flask from his back pocket, shoving it into Pike’s hand.

“Thank you. Good evening, gentlemen.”


Kirk moved quickly back into the occupied area of the building, where it was clear that the party was coming to an end. He made his way toward the main exit, only to find himself stopped by a crowd of cadets pushing their way out.

Kirk glanced to the side and his breath caught in his throat as he realized that he was standing next to Commander Spock, the only Vulcan at Starfleet Academy and therefore Jim’s idol. So he was somewhat dismayed when a drunk cadet staggered over to them, grinned blearily into Spock’s face, cooed “Hello, sexy professor,” and threw up on Spock’s feet.

Jim saw an opportunity, and tried to keep his voice steady as he said, “I grieve with thee, my Vulcan compatriot.”

The Vulcan turned to him and raised an eyebrow – damn, that was good. Kirk wondered if he could get his eyebrow to go that high or to look that sinister – oh. “Uh, I mean…” Kirk took a few steps backwards, turned, and pushed his way out of the building in a decidedly un-Vulcan manner.


McCoy followed the last stragglers out of the building and into the cool night air and began the long walk across campus to his room.

“McCoy.” Jim stood up from a bench where he’d been sitting in the darkness and walked quickly to catch up with him as McCoy picked up his pace. “McCoy…Bones…come on, slow down. I want to explain.”

“Don’t bother,” McCoy snarled.

“Bones, please.” Jim reached for his arm and pulled him so that they were face to face. “I wish to apologize for…I mean, look, I’m sorry.” He pulled his robe off and tossed it onto the bench, then turned to take McCoy’s hands in his. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Bones looked away, not meeting Jim’s eyes, and said, “I’m sorry, too.” He laughed weakly. “I wanted to kiss you since that shuttle ride and …I thought I’d lost my chance.”

Jim leaned forward to kiss him softly on the cheek. “You haven’t,” he whispered.


“Yeah, Bones?”

“Do you think maybe you could stop…um…being Vulcan?”

Jim let go of one of McCoy’s hands and held his hand in the symbol of Vulcan greeting. He grinned at the look of concern that flashed across McCoy’s face, and pulled him in for a long kiss. Finally he drew away, just enough to press his lips against McCoy’s jaw and whisper, “I find your suggestion quite…logical.”


The next afternoon, Kirk and McCoy visited Captain Pike, who gave them an informal reprimand and ordered them to clean his office thoroughly as punishment while he was out. Jim and Bones spent one hour cleaning the office, forty-five minutes engaging in vigorous scientific research on top of the desk and against the bookshelves, and an hour and a half cleaning the office again.

The two were never seen sitting apart in the mess hall again.

The End