#if anyone wants to debate spock with me please first do me the favor of revisiting the menagerie with current standards of consent in mind

[curator-on-ao3]

Wednesday (Quadruple) Drabble: The Lost and Found

She had been lost before.

Moving as a child from the Illyrian side of the city to the non-Illyrian side, hope for increased safety as consolation for leaving a part of her identity behind.

He had been lost before.

Refusals overridden, his would-be captors gaining control of his computer to falsify assent for a descent into fantasy, life in unreality as corrosive as the battery acid that powered his radiation-damaged heart.

Starbase records made clear Spock’s betrayal and, once Una reached Talos IV, it didn’t take long to locate Chris— his illusion screaming in pain from fire-borne punishment, his true form immobilized in his support chair.

The rage she needed to defeat Talosian mind control came easy.

In the shuttle she’d… procured… Chris declined her algorithm to match his speaking voice, choosing instead to use a computer default, no intonation of anguish or joy, no movement in his scarred face or change to his mechanized, steady respiration as he answered her questions.

“My best guess is Spock exploited that you’d be away from Starbase Eleven for a few weeks. He knew he was disobeying my orders and committing mutiny. He did it anyway.”

“If the Illyrian doctor is willing to try, I understand the risks.”

“Leave Vina behind. She made her alliances clear.”

So it’s at an Illyrian colony far from Federation arrogance or authority that his DNA unfurls and re-forms. Genetic engineering is usually performed before birth, but this is his rebirth, no longer the Christopher Pike who upheld Starfleet ideals but a Christopher Pike who is wary of a Starfleet that would tolerate a sham court martial rather than search for a greater truth.

Is Una reborn, too? Her belief in something greater than herself, in a Starfleet that could, in fact, become what she had hoped it to be in her idealistic younger years, that belief is withered, gone, replaced by allegiance to people, not an organization.

His skin is pockmarked, his voice reedy, gait unsteady. Genetic engineering isn’t a miracle cure.

Her sense of purpose has telescoped from appreciation for differences to appreciation for those who share her values.

Are they still lost?

Isn’t everyone?

But to be lost together… a shuttle course laid in toward a curious-looking cluster of stars, his hand a comfort on her shoulder, her soft hum the music of his naturally-beating heart… to be lost together… is something like being found.

•

Christopher Pike drabbles: 3, 2, 1/?

[songbookff]

For @nuschapel ... something a little domestic. 

Sarek/Amanda after learning that Spock has chosen to teach at Starfleet Academy. Takes place in the AOS timeline...probably. Not too worried about details in this one. I’ve never really written Amanda before, so please let me know what you think. 

“You’re pouting.”

Sarek looked up from his book to blink blankly at his wife. Amanda was flipping through her own book on the couch across from him in their living room. His wife had a habit of making illogical comments instead of being forthright with him about whatever was bothering her in order to get a reaction from him. It was one of the human traits he did not care for. He also believed that it amused her to accuse him of un-Vulcan-like behaviors.

However, after the many years of their marriage, he had learned he should address her comments before they turned into a disagreement. Statistically, this resulted in the chance his being in the proverbial house of dogs (a terran expression he still did not fully understand) much less likely. Therefore, he closed his book and stated: “I know better than to remind you that Vulcans do not pout.”

“I would disagree, but that isn’t what I want to talk about.” Amanda closed her book as well and straightened her back. Usually, she would have a teasing smile, but today her jaw was pulled tight. This was unusual. “You are unhappy that Spock will remain at Starfleet Academy to be an instructor.”

Sarek carefully thought his response before replying, “I do not agree this course of action will be beneficial for his career.”

“As opposed to what, exactly?” Amanda crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I do not understand your meaning.” Sarek raised his eyebrow at how his wife rolled her eyes at his reply.

He knew his words would elicit a reaction of this sort from her. Amanda, for all of her human habits, did have one Vulcan quality: she liked to get to the point. Sarek found that if he did not answer her directly on occasion, their disputes would last longer; and he enjoyed debating his wife. She was highly intelligent and often found a perspective he had failed to consider. Of course, she was still wrong on occasion, something she would never admit.

“Sarek, why wouldn’t it be beneficial for his career?” Amanda stood and began to pace, listing off her position, “First, our son has a unique perspective on Federation culture and interactions. It is beneficial to Starfleet to have an officer of his intelligence and background teaching new recruits. Secondly, because of his esteemed status upon graduation and his qualifications, many high-ranking Starfleet officers and Federation employees will want to keep him close. He will meet many people who could useful to him in the future. And third, by allowing him to work at the Academy, he can explore future endeavors outside of Starfleet more easily, as the physical location of the Academy is near the Federation Headquarters on Earth.”

“And?” Amanda’s eyebrows knitted together in frustration. Sarek knew his wife was holding back another reason. She often held back information in a discussion to use at what she considered to be a more appropriate time.

“And he will be happy.” Her eyes challenged him to disagree with her last statement. “Do you disagree with my reasoning?”

“Your logic is sound,” he conceded. With a bit more thought, he replied, “I believe Starfleet is using him to further their own benefit without consideration of his future. They see him as a connection to myself and believe they can further control Vulcan’s interest by employing my son.”

“That’s rather self-centered, don’t you think?” Amanda’s voice was tart and Sarek was startled at the turn the conversation had taken.

He had not realized she was upset. He thought over the conversation again, as well as their conference with Spock this morning when he told them of his plans. She had expressed her pride and happiness in Spock’s decision during the call. Since then, she had been unusually quiet, now that he thought about it. And just now, she had brought up the conversation with a specific goal in mind. Perhaps he had misspoken at some point and caused her to be irritated.

Therefore, he cautiously responded, “My concern was for Spock’s career, not my own. I believe that Starfleet’s endeavor to cater my good favor will be unsuccessful. Therefore, they could impede Spock’s future endeavors out of spite.”

“You think Starfleet would punish him if you don’t start agreeing with them?” Apparently, Amanda had not seen this as result of Spock’s employment. It was satisfying to convince her of his point. With a sigh she sat down beside him.

Sarek used the opportunity to take her hand. When debating with another Vulcan, this would obviously not be an appropriate action. However, humans considered touch to be a soothing sentiment. Amanda always responded well to hand holding and although Sarek would never admit it, he didn’t see a negative consequence in the act.

“I believe Spock is wasting time when he could be greatly contributing to Starfleet as a science officer or diplomat.”

Amanda bit her lip, considering his words. Then with the smallest of smiles, one Sarek would have missed had he not been studying her face to make sure he was reading her emotions correctly, she said, “There was a time when you thought him joining Starfleet was a mistake.”

“That is irrelevant to the conversation, my beloved.” Sarek still believed it was a mistake. The Vulcan Science Academy would have proven to everyone once and for all that his son was as much a Vulcan as anyone else. The emotional decision to decline the honor of being accepted into the Academy was a poor choice. But the choice had been made; it was illogical to argue over it now.

“I know you want what’s best for him,” murmured Amanda. “But sometimes as a parent, it is our job to be supportive of what makes them happy, even if it may not be what is best.”

“That is illogical,” Sarek pointed out.

“Is it illogical to support your son?”

“If he-”

Amanda was quick to interrupt him, shifting her hips on the couch to look at him straight on. “Is it illogical to support your son, who is intelligent, driven, and trying to do good in the universe?”

“Perhaps not.”

This made her eyes light up and Sarek knew he had said what she wanted to hear. Throughout Spock’s life, Amanda had often had to remind him that their son was half human, like herself. It was something easily dismissed because Spock had studiously adopted his Vulcan heritage over that of his human side. Perhaps this was another one of those times.

“Then you will call him tonight and tell him that you support his decision!”

“I do not support his decision,” he reminded her. “Vulcans do not lie.”

“Fine, don’t say you support his decision, just tell him you support him.”

Amanda let him mull over this choice of words. She was right, of course, that would not be a lie. Sarek did his best to always support his son. He would not have to be specific about exactly what he was supporting. His wife was watching him carefully, waiting for his response. The logical thing to do would be to do as she asked. After all, it would make her happy.

“I will call him after dinner.”

“Splendid!” exclaimed Amanda and Sarek was rewarded with a kiss, both in the Vulcan and human manner.

After many years of marriage, Sarek had learned many things. The most important of those was that the most logical course was to keep Amanda smiling. If he were human, perhaps he would say it was because he loved to see her happy. If he were human, that is.

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Wars

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Star Trek/Spock

Rating: PG

Original Idea: “@g00d13 requested: Hello can you please write story about Reader and Spock... Reader and Spock always having little wars.. Like with one has the point.... One day Spock snaps and kisses reader....”

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one was hard to write and I don’t know why. But hey, I got it done!

^^^^^

Everything is a competition between you and Spock. Always has been. The two of you attended the Starfleet Academy together and, for a human, you’ve always been right on his tail in everything academic. And if you weren’t on his tail, you were his equal.

Spock claims he’s not jealous. He claims he enjoys the friendly competition and having an equal.

But you’ve seen his face when you beat him. You know he’s jealous. He tries to hide it but you’ve known him for years---you can tell when he’s displaying emotions almost better than the captain or his ex, Lieutenant Uhura.

Before you were even aware of it, the crew was keeping score of your competitions. Chekov kept a running tally on his navigator console every time one of you won a battle over the other.

You and Spock compete in everything. Combat training, chess, intellectual debates, even whoever the captain would listen to in regarding any situation (Spock usually won that one, but you’d made good points too).

“Hey, Hansen!” you shout, rushing over to a friend of yours who works in bioengineering. She glances up, eyebrows raised.

“What’s up, lieutenant?” she asks.

“There, uh, there isn’t, like, a betting pool on---”

“The war going on between you and Spock?” Ensign Hansen finishes, a grin tilting up the corners of her face.

“Yeah. That. There isn’t a betting pool is there?”

“Of course not. Money doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Oh thank---”

“That being said,” Hansen continues. “If you end up with more points by the end of the five-year, then Ensign Charles in botany totally owes me a date.”

“Hansen!” you protest.

She laughs. “What? It’s a great opportunity for drama. Most of the rest of us just go about our business with personal problems, but we feed on everyone else’s as gossip fodder. Chekov thinks you two will end up dating before the five-year ends but Dr. McCoy is betting you won’t just because he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if you did.”

You roll your eyes. “You can get back to work, Hansen. Thanks.”

“No problem.” She grins as you leave the bioengineering lab.

With nothing else to do for the moment, you head to your station on the bridge. Thinking maybe you’ll get some work done so you don’t have to do it later during your free time.

Nope.

That doesn’t happen.

Spock strides onto the bridge through the airlock and gives you a look. An impassive, unreadable one.

Then he bounces an eyebrow and proceeds to his own station, sitting down.

The bridge is mostly busy, but not in a frantic way.

So no one but Spock hears you demand, “What was that look for?”

He turns in his spinning chair to meet your eyes. “I apologize, lieutenant, I am not sure I understand your question,” he says.

“Sure you don’t,” you snap sarcastically.

“Lieutenant---”

“Is this about the telemetry report I made yesterday?” you asked. “You jealous that my calculations were better than yours?”

Spock’s lips tightened. “No,” he said. “I assure you, glancing your way is not indicative of any sort of negative feelings, lieutenant.”

“Point commander and point lieutenant,” you catch Chekov whispering to Sulu. You shoot them both a glare. Neither appears to notice--but Chekov adds to his tally that he keeps on his console.

You want to stick your tongue out at Spock---but you figure if there’s a war for immaturity you could win it within seconds and he wouldn’t even bother to go against you. So you don’t. You keep your tongue firmly behind your lips but sigh in frustration, turning back to your work.

^^^^^

“Lieutenant, certainly you could push yourself a little harder---”

You sucker punch Spock in the solar plexus to get him to shut up. All the breath leaves his lungs in a whoosh. And he coughs for a moment.

Taking full advantage of the situation, you judo-flip him onto the training mat and wind your legs around his neck in a headlock, waiting for him to tap out. You know he’ll last longer than a human would---Vulcans were adapted for a thinner atmosphere and therefore required less oxygen and found it much harder to suffocate---but he wasn’t getting out of your grip any time soon.

The captain dings a bell when Spock finally does tap out against your thigh. “One point to the lieutenant. Good job,” Captain Kirk offers.

Chekov marked down the point.

You roll your eyes.

^^^^^

“Check,” you say, taking Spock’s bishop---the one he had been favoring the entire game of chess.

Most of the main bridge crew is in the lounge. You’re pretty sure someone has broken out the alcohol, but you need your wits about you if you’re going to beat Spock. He’s an incredible chess player and you can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve beat him. Out of dozens---if not hundreds---of games.

Three.

Though, you’re fairly certain that first time was a pity-win back at Starfleet Academy.

But Spock just smirks and takes your knight. “Check---and checkmate, lieutenant,” he says, voice flat and devoid of any feeling. Not even a sense of victory.

You snap your fingers, frustrated at your defeat.

“One point to Spock!” Captain Kirk shouts over his shoulder at Chekov, who marks it down on his tablet.

^^^^^

“Hey, Chekov!” you call, rushing after the young adult. He looks up, a bright gleam in his eyes.

“Yes, lieutenant?” he asks.

“What’s the running score at the moment?”

“Eh?”

“I know you’re keeping track of me and Spock’s... rivalry, as it were. Who’s winning?”

Chekov fidgets for a moment, then brings up the score on his tablet. “Since the start of the five-year mission, lieutenant, you have gained four-hundred-and-twenty-seven points and Commander Spock has received four-hundred-and-nineteen. However, these are just the points we know about. These are not counting any competitions the two of you get up to when the rest of the crew is not around.”

You remember you and Spock sparring in the gym in the middle of your sleeping shift since neither of you could sleep.

You clear your throat. “Right. Thanks Pavel.”

Chekov beams. “No problem!”

^^^^^

“For a genius, you are so ignorant!” you shout at Spock.

Everyone in the rounded corridor freezes for a moment before going back to their business. You know rumors are going to run rampant through the crew for the next... several years. At least until the five-year mission is over.

“For an adult, you certainly behave like a child,” Spock retorts.

“If you weren’t so emotionally-stunted you might realize that there are multiple species of intelligent life on this ship who all have hearts in various numbers and would give their lives for the rest of this crew.”

“Do not presume I do not know the value and strength of the unity of this crew, lieutenant,” Spock says. He tries to sound as placid and relaxed as ever, but it doesn’t work. There’s the slightest tremor of anger in his voice.

You can’t help but smirk at that crack in his usual emotionless facade. “And yet you feel none of it,” you coo menacingly, leaning closer to him to seem more threatening despite the fact that he’s taller than you.

“Your assumption is once again false. I feel united with this crew.”

You roll your eyes. “On an mental level maybe. You don’t actually feel any emotions towards anyone on this crew.”

Spock stares at you for a moment. You can practically feel the anger radiating off of him. “You’re wrong,” he finally says, quietly. “Not that that’s anything new.”

I sneer. “You think you’re such a genius. You think you have me down pat. Well guess what? You don’t. Since day one you’ve been jealous that I’m a human who’s capable of being on your level. Your preconceived notions that humans can’t be as intelligent as Vulcans has robbed you of so much good you could see. Both about me and Kirk and McCoy. You’re so smart that you’re stupid, Spock!”

He doesn’t seem to have anything to say to you after that.

“Fine!” he finally snaps. He grabs your shoulders and pulls you closer, planting his lips on yours.

You freeze for a second before relaxing against him. All the fire of the argument dies down. Instead a different kind of fire rises. One that’s been burning in your chest for a while---one that you’ve completely misidentified up until now.

When he finally pulls away, he’s breathing heavily. “Does that... prove to you that I feel?” he asks, voice barely more than a whisper.

You touch your lower lip with your fingertips. “Um, well, yeah,” you admit.

He grins---the first time you’ve ever seen a smile on him. “Good. I care for you, lieutenant. Deeply. I lashed out because I didn’t know how to deal with what I was feeling.”

You grin back. “I think I could teach you a few things.”

“It won’t be the first time.”