Spock stepped out of the capacious shower stall and wrapped a simple lava-lava around his waist. The massage setting of the sonics had done wonders for him. The heated tiles under his feet reminded him of home, as did the basin of spice sands inset beside the wet sink. Although the sonic shower had provided adequate cleansing, Spock strolled over to the basin and robbed the sand between his palms releasing the spicy scents: Cinnamon, nugen, ginger, sun-warmed skin. He rubbed it up and down his forearms.
Spock wondered, "What was keeping McCoy?" //Risa was his idea, after all.// "What happens on Risa, stays on Risa" he reassured Spock. Days of strolling arm in arm along the beach and the nights, ah the nights together, with no red alerts and no Jim Kirk. And now McCoy was late.
Spock went into the living area. On the bar were two shot glasses and a squat glass bottle of blue liquor. This was to be Leonard's anniversary present, //I will teach him to keep me waiting.// Spock opened the bottle and helped himself to a small aperitif. The blue liquid burned pleasantly down his throat.
Their agreed upon agenda was simple; anything but camping or rock climbing. Sailing, yes, Len was a good sailor. "All the nice Vulcans love a sailor." Where did that come from? Spock returned to musing on McCoy - sunburned, wind-tossed. His eyes impossibly blue surrounded by his smiling tanned face.
Spock sipped his drink again. It was a joy to see Len sitting at the rudder of a yawl. Commander McCoy ran a taut ship and a naughty cabin boy could find himself facing the Captain's Mast.
Captain - a jarring thought chased away with more of the blue liquor. Without inertial dampers James T. Kirk got seasick! Spock chuckled. Merely discussing sea conditions and choice of sailing craft was enough to dissuade Jim from joining them.
Sea breeze, surf, and the song of the pseudo-gulls had lulled Spock into a light doze, suddenly the door to the suite opened, Spock's heart leapt into his armpit. There stood Leonard McCoy dressed in native garb. Sandals and a blue lava-lava accented his long legs. A blue and white print aloha shirt hung open, revealing his chest and belly. Spock's eyes traveled from Len's chest following the line of hair as it disappeared into the wraparound. His face - a smile warmer than Risa's sun, eyes bluer...than this stuff.
Len stepped into the suite and dropped his bags. "Aw, Spock, honey it so good to see you."
Spock stood up and attempted to straighten his tunic. He was surprised to discover he wasn't wearing one.
McCoy laughed softly, "Spock, I do believe you are tipsy." He stepped forward and they embraced, kissing deeply. As they paused for air McCoy asked, "Honey, is that Romulan Ale, I taste?"
"Yes," Spock said reaching behind him for the bottle, "Happy Anniversary, Plum." He poured two glasses and toasted each other. Kissing again, quickly so the taste of the ale mixed with the taste of their kisses.
There are only a few substances in the Alpha Quadrant that can inebriate a Vulcan, trust the Romulans to make one of the best. And a damned tasty one at that, thought McCoy.
"Spock, reports out of HQ say this stuff is unavailable."
"Star Fleet intelligence was wrong, Doctor."
Fin
No comments:
Post a Comment