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George and Winona take a certain amount of pride in the fact that Jim is good with adults. Sure, Jimmy can be wild and energetic (what kid isn’t?) but when it comes down to it, the kid knows how to behave when they go out and he’s downright smooth He was raised in it- born on a starship, raised by George and Winona, but also in part by the crew of the USS Bonaventure. Since the Kirk’s return to earth almost two years ago with Winona’s promotion to Admiral, galas and cabinet meetings have become old-hat for Jim.
When the Kirks drop him off at the childcare center for the Interplanetary Cooperation Initiative meet-and-greet, Jim lets the caretakers reassure him that his parents will be back soon and that he can play with whatever toys he wants. Which is kind of a let-down- Jim would rather toy around with a holo cube than stack wooden blocks. The boredom is short-lived, though- after a minute of jostling around with the other kids, trying to get ahold of a PADD, Jim sees a kid standing in a corner, swathed in heavy robes. He looks very serious and very alone, and Jim figures it’s his duty to help the newbie join the fold.
“Hi,” Jim says when he joins the kid in the corner. “My name’s James T. Kirk. Don’t ask me what the T stands for.” Jim still hasn’t quite figured out how Rs work. Not, his dad says, that there’s anything wrong with that. Plenty of other kids do too.
Now that he’s standing up close, the guy looks kind of green. Jim wonders if he’s sick, and maybe that’s why he’s not playing with any of the other kids.
The kid is also giving Jim a weird look- one funky eyebrow raised, dark eyes narrow. Jim notices that the kid’s ears are pointy, like the elves’ on Lord of the Rings.
“You may call me Spock,” the kid says stiffly, and everything clicks for Jim. Spock’s shy! He’s probably some diplomat’s kid who’s never seen this side of the moon before. “I am observing my environment.”
Now, Jim’s only in the first grade and he’s not sure what an environment even is, but it sounds cool.
“Awesome,” he says, and puts on his biggest, most convincing smile. “Can I help?”
Spock’s eyes go wide and he turns a little greener.
“You may,” he says, and turns back to look across the room.
“Hey,” Jim says after several long, torturous minutes of sitting still, “you wanna ob- obsa- look at things a little closer?”
Spock turns to look at Jim again, and nods solemnly.
Two hours later, Amanda and Winona arrive to pick up their children. They find Jim and Spock at one of the tables, arguing (well, Jim’s arguing. Spock is glowering silently) over a chessboard. Jim insists that the rook should be able to fly and shoot torpedoes. Spock only looks scandalized by the illogic of it all.
Winona and Amanda exchange contact information (“I’ve never seen Spock get along so well with someone his own age,” says Amanda. “Usually Jimmy’s got a bloody nose by now,” says Winona. It’s nothing short of a miracle, really).
“Father,” Spock says later that night on the transport home, sandwiched between his parents. “I do not understand humans.”
“Do you not, my son?” Sarek says. He looks over his son’s head and meets Amanda’s smiling gaze.
“I do not understand,” Spock continues, “but I do not find them displeasing. I must continue to study their culture.”
“We’ll set up a play date tomorrow,” Amanda says.
“A study, my wife,” Sarek says.
“Yes,” Spock says. “With Jim. A study.”