Chapter Text
Jim padded around his apartment kitchen, filling his old fashioned coffee pot and replicating some creamer. He yawned and stretched his arms over his shoulder. He needed to get dressed for an interview later, but frankly he wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. It wasn’t exactly like he was a morning person - unless it was for class of course, but his semester ended a week ago and with it his tidy schedule and scholarship funding. He needed a job.
To be even franker, it was just too fucking early.
His coffee pot released a ping and he rubbed his face before crossing the kitchen for a mug. The mug read “#1 Captain,” though he was neither yet; a gift from his brother once he was accepted into the Command Program. Every time he saw it a ghost of a smile would grace his face, then of course he would remember the last time he saw his brother and the memory would fade.
He was doing just that too when a knock sounded at the door.
Who in their right mind was also up at 0700? He swears, if it was Bones coming to make sure he was up for fucks sake, he-
It was not Bones.
In fact it was not anyone Jim knew, but rather a very uncomfortable Vulcan. If they could look uncomfortable, Jim thought. He looked about the same age as Jim with the signature severe hairstyle and pointed brows. Though he hasn’t met many Vulcans, Jim figures they usually don’t go about making house-calls.
“Hello,” the Vulcan said, giving him the ta’al.
Jim clumsily returned it, eyes squinting in suspicion, “Hello?”
“My name is Spock, I apologize if I am intruding. However, I was advised to introduce myself to neighboring apartments. I am doing so now.”
Vaguely Jim remembered a moving truck just yesterday parked outside his apartment complex, but he hadn’t given it enough thought to follow through and investigate. This must be his new neighbor.
“Oh, I’m Jim. It’s nice to meet you.” At the very least he didn’t offer to shake his hand.
“You as well.”
Spock then moved his hands behind his back to grasp them. If Jim didn’t know any better, he’d call it fidgeting. He internally sighed, someone has got to help this guy, and it might as well be Jim. He had some time before his interview he could kill anyway.
“Um, do you wanna come in? I just made coffee.”
Spock raised an eyebrow, “that would be amenable, thank you.”
Jim stepped back and gestured a hand inside, “mi casa es su casa.”
__
If someone told Spock he would be having terran coffee with his new neighbor, a rather aesthetically pleasing neighbor, he would not have been able to calculate the degree to which it was possible. In fact, it was simply too unlikely to think about at all. Despite that, Spock found himself walking through Jim’s doors and into his home.
Jim’s apartment was laid out much the same as his own, but of course Jim’s was brighter - more embellished. The smell of coffee wafted through the living space from its adjoined kitchen and Spock found himself almost enjoying it.
“You do not replicate your coffee?”
He laughed, “No, some things just aren’t the same replicated. Can I get you anything?”
“What you are having is adequate. If I may inquire, how is it different?”
Jim hummed, “now that is a good question,” he paused in thought. “Now that you mention it though, I’m not sure. There’s something about doing it myself, even this small thing, you know?”
Spock did not know, but in some way he understood the human desire to do something less efficiently, if only for the fact that they are doing it. It reminded him very much of his mother’s garden on Vulcan, growing terran tomatoes despite the sand and humidity. She would toil away in the day nurturing small vines that several months later would produce small red fruit. Naturally, his father would replicate a tomato for the prospect of comparison, later deeming them indecipherable. His mother never agreed, but she always did so with humility and mirth.
He told as much to Jim.
Jim poured Spock his own mug and gestured for him to sit on a barstool while Jim leaned against the counter facing him.
“I had a neighbor in Iowa who grew tomatoes. Your mom, she’s not wrong. They really do taste different. The skin is thicker, the fruit sweeter.”
“I will have to tell her so,” Spock decided. Though even as he said it he could not help but notice the increase in his own heart rate. Nor could he ignore Jim’s eyes, throughout their conversation they were kind and patient. His eyes were striking blue and as Jim faced him he found he wanted to keep looking. Spock had met many human and humanoid species while on Earth, but it felt as though Jim could be different.
Felt . How terribly illogical, perhaps he did not meditate as much as needed. It was after all a strenuous day prior. Mentally he filed it away to address at a later time.
“So what brings you to San Francisco, Spock?” Jim asks, taking a sip of his coffee.
__
Well into his second cup now, Jim had gotten to know Spock, or at least kind of. A teaching assistant at the academy, Spock moved in so he could stay in San Francisco, as opposed to traveling back to Vulcan. He was a quiet guy, didn’t say much, but seemed open to listening to Jim. They spoke briefly about the academy, what classes they took, etc. Jim learned that Spock was well en route to advance further along the command track, but if Jim had an opinion, he seemed more fond of the sciences. Then Spock nodded to Jim’s mug.
“Are you a Captain?” A mild tone of bewilderment in Spock’s voice, or perhaps he was projecting.
A smile broke out and Jim laughed heartily. “No, no. My brother got me this mug. I’m also on the command track, I’ll graduate in a couple of years.”
“Ah, well perhaps our paths will cross later in the field.”
Jim found himself giving Spock a warm smile, “Yeah, maybe.”
Then his phone rang.
He needed to be at an interview in twenty minutes.
He loosely let go of his mug causing the beige beverage to spill slightly onto the table.
“Oh, fuck. Shit shit . I have to go, I have an interview!”