DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of T'Kuht and is copyright (c) 2001 by T'Kuht. This story is Rated PG. This is the sequel to "A Fine Romance."
The Gay Divorcé Or
(What Do You Do With a Drunken Vulcan?)
As the Enterprise sped away from Vulcan headed for Altair VI, Spock of Vulcan tried to come to terms to the events that had changed his life. He no longer felt the overwhelming surges of sexual need that he had before arriving. They had not completely dissipated, but they were controllable. Now that he was aware that his captain and best friend was not dead but living and practically laughing at him, he felt as if he could breathe once again. The ship had been required to attend the swearing in ceremonies of the new president of Altair VI and would miss those, but would be there just in time to attend the formal receptions and many parties afterward. It was a planet wide celebration, and the Enterprise could use a little R&R.
* * *
"Spock, I realize this is not the best time for you to appear in public, but you are required..." Jim Kirk was saying as they walked down the corridor toward the mess hall for breakfast.
The Vulcan stopped him with a succinct, "I am recovered. It will not be a problem for me to attend."
"Okay, I know how much you dislike these displays of emotionalism and Altair VI is definitely an emotional planet. I was just going to say that if you only wish to attend the inauguration dinner, I will understand your leaving early."
"Thank you. I will keep that in mind," Spock answered, clearly unwilling to talk. He had spent nearly the entire day after their disastrous trip to his home planet in meditations and rest. He was beginning to become serene again although there were still unanswered questions and thoughts.
* * *
Altair VI was a lush planet with the climate zones closest to Earth's mid-tropical areas. There were no extreme hots or colds, just a nice evenness to make it delightful to visit and live on. It had become a sort of playground for the rich since it had been discovered almost two hundred years earlier. They elected a president once in five years and they usually got to sit out the entire time an elected official was allowed to ... twenty years. This was a brand new president, duly elected after a hotly contested race, and the planet was ready to celebrate. For the first time in almost two hundred years, they had elected a president that represented the working classes. They were still wealthy working class, but they weren't the idle rich money who had first arrived. These were the upstarts who earned their money the hard way.
* * *
"Enterprise, group A, ready to beam down," intoned Transporter Chief Kyle and waited until the light confirmed the lowering of the shields. The shimmer and the odd whine that accompanied the departicalization of solids filled the room and the captain, first officer, chief medical officer, and chief engineer all disappeared.
They were to be received on the other end by planetary officials and whisked to the large cabinet hall to be introduced to the new leaders. It would be a few hours before the rest of the crew would be allowed to go down to join the festivities.
* * *
"Which one are you going to wear?" Nyota Uhura asked as she looked at the two dresses Christine had lying on the bed. They were both beautiful and voluptuous, one a dark garnet velvet and the other an emerald green satin. The nurse was busy with her hair and trying to get the recalcitrant curls to appear as if they naturally should just drape down her neck. It wasn't working. With a sound of disgust, she picked up the beaded comb and swept the curls up to go along with the rest of the blonde locks. "I'm not sure. Which one do you think?"
The Bantu woman thought a moment. "I don't know. They're both gorgeous. Which one is the most comfortable to dance in?"
"Hmm, well, the velvet is but it gets hot with the bolero jacket on. The green one is cooler but it shows the wrinkles so bad. I guess if I get hot I can take the jacket off," the nurse mused and decided on the velvet sheath dress. This wasn't a formal dance, but it was definitely of cocktail standing so they were dressing appropriately. Uhura's solid gold lame creation hugged every curve she had and gave the slightest hint of others rather intriguing. She had chosen it for a special reason, she intended to have a very good time indeed. Uhura helped the nurse slip into the velvet dress and approved heartily.
The nurse's all too fair complexion was made almost creamy vanilla by the combination of the platinum hair and dark garnet gown. If anyone could be considered a fair beauty it was her. Aware that her height was a problem at dances, she chose simple comfortable gold slide sandals with as short a heel as she could get away with. If the dress had been to her feet it would not have been a problem at all. She had satin slippers for the occasion. But this dress ended just above her knee and the shoes had been a problem. "Well, I suppose we should get going. We're in group Z, aren't we?" the nurse said sarcastically referring to their low grouping. It seemed like everyone else would get there and be back before they even saw the transporter room.
"Yeah, we're Double Z," Uhura answered and the two friends headed for a good time.
* * *
The inaugural balls were in full swing in at least every city on Altair VI, but the big ones were the ones the ship's personnel were going to be attending. Captain James Kirk had been occupied with a very lovely liaison from Deneb II. She was attentively listening to one of his near death experiences with almost open mouthed awe. Deneb II was not the home of the smartest race of creatures. McCoy had disappeared long ago after he learned they had a variety of plant that most resembled mint on Earth. Scotty had joined him looking to see if they had any Scotch anywhere. Trays of appetizers were being circulated and tables of food were laid out throughout the halls. Commander Spock seemed to occupy his time most around the large bowls of punch and Altair water that he favored. Kirk had been a little worried about his friend. After all, he had been through a life changing experience just days earlier. Kirk nearly died from the ordeal, and he was still tender where Spock's lirpa had slit across his chest. The Enterprise Captain found himself keeping an eye on the Vulcan more than he normally would have. Spock seemed to be waiting or looking for something. He wasn't sure.
The evening wore on and Spock still attended the dance and festivities. He didn't want to leave. He found it enjoyable here. The Altair Spring Water was flowing and he found it inexplicably sweet and soothing. He usually preferred Altair Mineral Water aboard ship. For some reason he also felt as if he could smell, hear, taste, and see more acutely. That he could attribute still to the waning effects of pon farr. From the corner of his eye he could see the parting of a group from the Enterprise. The sea of dress uniforms gave way to two women elegantly attired in cocktail dresses. Spock allowed his eyes to appreciate them for a long moment and realized almost too late they were headed right for him. Averting his eyes, he sipped more Altair Spring Water. The women took a cup of punch apiece and greeted the Vulcan.
"Mr. Spock, you look handsome this evening," Uhura said. Christine nodded her approval also, and he could tell by the flushed cheeks that the two had been down for some time and enjoying the dance in the other room. He remembered the night he had spent in the nurse's embrace as though it were only a few moments ago. He swallowed hard.
"You look lovely this evening," he said to both of them but turned his head to emphasize the nurse's condition. She apparently did not notice the attempt to compliment only her. In fact, she assumed it was meant for Uhura, and she just happened to be there at the same time.
Christine watched him with a bit of medical curiosity. Only five days earlier he had thrown a bowl of soup at her and told her to mind her own business regarding his affairs. Even though he had been tender with her and requested additional soup later, they had only spoken a brief moment before he calmly told her he wished to be alone. He was such a walking contradiction. Still, the revelation that he was going to meet up with his wife had completely knocked her for a loop. She had hoped that this dress and the dance would bring a new interest to her life so she could just get on with it. Spock's attendance told her that she wasn't going to have as much fun as she had hoped. He seemed to have the same effect as a dishpan of cold dirty water on her happiness. Still, the evening was young and her legs itched to dance some more. Downing the rest of the punch, she smiled the face brightening smile she had and excused herself, "If you don't mind, I'll return to the dance."
Spock and Uhura both nodded their assent and Spock kept his eyes on her as she moved lithely through the crowded room. Uhura was saying something to him that he had paid no attention to until the end. "Don't you think so, Mr. Spock?"
Warring between being truthful with her and just agreeing he chose the latter. "Yes, of course you are correct, Lieutenant. If you will excuse me."
Spock left the communications officer speechless as he maneuvered toward the dance floor. She had teasingly said something about how much the dress took advantage of Christine's hourglass figure, knowing full well he probably didn't even see the gown she had on. Now with that statement and the fact that he followed her exact path to the dance floor made her rethink her favorite Vulcan. * * *
Fast music and glittering lights filled the large dance hall. The new president favored music that was referred to as pop or Rock 'n Roll and had requested that at least at his own personal inaugural ball they play a good selection of that. A tune about a woman named Long Tall Sally was blaring from the surround sound amplifiers. People were dancing in a most irregular fashion. He thought back on the time Christine tried to teach him to do a Lindy hop. If this was what she was attempting to get him to do, it would have been difficult indeed. He had stepped onto the parquet floor far enough to get smacked into by a twirling couple. He recognized them from the Enterprise.
Spock nodded an apology and stepped back away from the dance floor. Christine was busy with a handsome man. By looks, he was probably younger than she but a good dance partner. He watched as she whirled and twirled to the tune. The dress was provocative though not revealing. As the song ended, the dizzying lights from the mirrored balls in the ceiling slowed and the next song was considerably slower. He noticed that the young man stayed with her and held her closely. Spock felt a surge ... one that he had to act upon. Daring back onto the dance floor, he reached the nurse and her partner quickly. Tapping him on the shoulder, he surprised both of them. "Miss Chapel," he said and had her in his arms before she could say goodbye to the other fellow.
Christine was rather overcome. Spock was a married man and now he was dancing with her. If he'd been human it might not have been so unusual. But, this was strange. She found herself stiff and ill at ease with him, although his dancing technique had improved since the Starfleet graduation dance the year before. She could think of nothing to say.
Spock held her in his arms, the dance rhythm was the same as the ones they had spent an entire evening with earlier, but something wasn't right. Christine didn't seem very pleased that he was with her. Not wanting to make a scene or do anything to embarrass either of them, he just kept dancing with her.
"Are you having an enjoyable evening, Miss Chapel?" he asked to try to make the time easier.
"Lovely, such a nice change from the ship," she answered softly. Nearly in tears, she was determined not to allow them to fall. The words of the song were so appropriate to the situation they were in. "...you loved me, then you snubbed me, but what can I do? I'm still in love with you..."
Spock apparently gave no credence to the words except to register they were there. The house lights stayed low and another song began, one just as slow. The pleading strains of "Love Me or Leave Me" rang through the room hauntingly and Spock started to take her in his arms again. This time, she pulled away and shook her head. "I think I'll sit this one out, thank you, Mr. Spock."
Spock watched as she fairly fled the room and the words of the song became painfully aware to him as he watched her go. "... I want your love, but I don't want to borrow ... to have it today to give back tomorrow ... for my love is your love. There's no love for nobody else."
* * *
Christine tried to stop crying. "Why does he effect me this way?" she mourned to herself. Why did he do this to her at these stupid state occasions? Why couldn't she just have a normal love life like everyone else? Somewhere her mind answered, "Because you're looking for Prince Charming and there aren't any royal families left anymore."
Uhura and Kirk had both seen her leave quickly and followed her line to the lone figure of Spock in the middle of the floor. Uhura sighed, "Damn, don't tell me he did it again."
Kirk shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know about those two. But I suppose we should check on them."
Uhura went out to the balcony, Kirk to the departing Vulcan. Spock decided that going home would be best. "Spock," Kirk said stopping his friend.
"Yes, Captain," Spock replied not aware that they had been watched.
"Anything you want to talk about?"
"No, It has been an interesting evening. I believe I will be going back to the ship now."
Kirk nodded. "Okay, well, I was going to ask if you wanted to accompany me out of the main hall here and go in to the town to see some of the sights. Might prove more interesting."
Spock considered a moment. He really didn't want to go back to the ship and it was an offer. They headed for the more uncivilized part of Altair VI.
* * *
"Christine, what is it?" Uhura asked in her softest most calming manner.
The nurse wasn't angry, just hurt, confused and down right tired. "If there was a way to completely erase every emotion I'd ever had about that man, I'd pay my entire Starfleet's career pay to go through it."
"Did he say something? What?" Uhura asked remembering the last time.
"No, he said nothing. He just wanted to dance with me. Nyota, he's a married man. I mean he just got back from his wife and now he's dancing with me. I just couldn't handle it. I felt almost like I was a mistress or dirty, I don't know. I just couldn't stand it anymore. Maybe this is the best thing. I need to get so disgusted that I can't even look at him," she said and started crying even harder.
Nyota rubbed her friends shoulders. "You need a good drink. Why don't we go back in and see what they've got?"
Christine shook her head. "No, he'll be in there."
"How about the town then? We can find a nice dark spot. Maybe some nice dark men..."
The prospect of something different brightened the dismal nurse. They were off in the night air before another moment was lost.
* * *
Spock had accompanied Kirk to at least three separate tavernas now. The captain seemed to get more and more inebriated while Spock became more and more sober. This was not working. Spock longed for that Altair Spring Water he'd had at the inaugural hall and ordered it in lieu of the alcohol Kirk seemed to enjoy so much. This was a lower end tourist taverna with dancing girls and other pleasures of the senses. Spock didn't care for it much. Thinking they ought to be going somewhere else, he started to say something but found that he was a little woozy. He had not eaten anything all evening and decided that was the problem. Attracting a passing waitress he inquired if there were a menu and received a rather odd reply," You're looking at the menu."
*Humanoids...* he thought. So much for the idea of food. Perhaps that could lure Kirk away from this bawdy place.
"I am hungry. Could we go somewhere that serves food?"
Kirk looked his first officer over. It was well into the night but the places of businesses dare not close or they'd lose lots of money. "Okay," he slurred slightly. "You lead the way."
Spock's strong grip held Kirk up and they swayed toward the door and the fresh air of the night.
* * *
Joe's Surf and Turf was a maritime wharf inspired restaurant. A pier led to the entrance and a small lake had been carved out of the parking lot to encircle the building on all sides. Chinese style lanterns lit the outside al fresco dining area.
"We have no room for two," the maitre de said again to the two Starfleet officers who stood next to his podium. The place had been jammed all night.
"We'll take whatever you've got," Kirk insisted. Rank hath its privileges and he would pull rank if necessary.
"There is a table for four next to the kitchen," he said with an exasperated sigh.
"We'll take it," Spock answered. The woozy feeling had only gotten worse while they had waited. He found himself leaning uncharacteristically on the podium.
"If the gentlemen will follow me then," and they were led through a smoke filled area full of the smells of grilled seafood, steak, and vegetables.
Kirk waved the menus away the waited presented, "Steak ... medium rare, baked potato extra sour cream and butter and toast. Spock, what do you want?"
The Vulcan asked, "Do you have a vegetarian course?"
"Yes, sir, we have the grilled vegetable shish-ka-bob."
This was agreed upon and the drinks they had ordered arrived, Kirk's beer and Spock's Altair Spring Water. He was beginning to feel a little waterlogged. Noting the restroom sign, he excused himself.
* * *
"Chris, I've heard this place that has the best steak ... let's eat here," Uhura said and blinked several times quickly letting the nurse know she'd had a little too much to drink and food would probably be a good idea.
"That sounds great. Let's go."
They stood waiting patiently at Joe's Surf and Turf. Uhura was more forceful than the nurse and had gotten the maitre d' to go ask if they could sit with another couple at a four seat table. He returned, "They would be pleased. If you would follow me."
* * *
Spock was still in the bathroom and Kirk had gone to chat to a lovely lady near the piano bar. The ladies sat at the empty spots and ordered quickly. They were in the middle of speaking on some subject of importance only to two people who knew each other so well when the Vulcan appeared. "Miss Uhura, Miss Chapel?"
"Oh, no," Christine groaned. Of all the tables in all the joints this was the end... She wished she were more sloshed.
"Oh, Spock," Kirk called and stepped over. "We are to have the company of two lovely ladies for dinner ... hi. You're hungry, too?"
The evening was definitely a bust or at least Christine was thinking it was. She was tired, hungry, wanted to go home, had a slight case of the hiccups, and now had to endure Spock's company at her elbow. He seemed to be a little unsteady, but she decided it was her vision that was playing tricks on her instead. It took nearly an hour to get their meals to them. The kitchen staff was severely taxed and getting crankier by the minute. The presence of Kirk and Uhura did keep the mood from getting too depressing. Christine even found that she wasn't quite as mad at Spock as she had been at the dance. No, not mad, more heartsick than mad. The food was excellent and the group left to allow others their table. Kirk and Uhura took the lead position in the group and Spock tried to walk next to Christine. He was having difficulty maneuvering.
It wasn't long before Kirk and Uhura had left them behind and Christine considered catching up with them. They were so busy laughing and having a good time swerving down the street that the nurse was a little annoyed. Looking back at the Vulcan science officer, she considered her options. She'd never seen him plastered. It was rather unusual. "Mr. Spock, I think you'd better stop drinking that Altair Spring Water."
"Why, it's most delicious," Spock fairly slurred.
"I can just imagine. Come on, I think you need to just sit down a bit," she suggested and led him to a flower adorned gazebo where there was a large bench. It was in a quiet secluded spot from the rest of the ever present crowd. She watched him sit down. "I'll call the Enterprise," she decided and started to pull her communicator from the small drawstring purse that matched her dress.
"No, I will be all right. Please, I would prefer to stay here," he answered in a tone she hadn't heard before. It almost begged her. She assumed it was because he didn't want others to see him in this condition.
Coming over to watch him intently, she started to reach out to feel his forehead before remembering that it wouldn't matter what his temperature was, she'd think he was hot. Her instinct proved the wrong thing to do. He grabbed her hand in an iron grip. She was so startled she nearly yelped. Rising to come nose to nose with her, the eyes that bored into her practically glowed.
Pulling her close so that he could resume the dance position they had held earlier, he tried to maneuver her. "Do you not wish to dance? You said you loved to dance," he said after she obviously did not wish to join in.
"Spock, please, let me get you back aboard," she smiled with a plea. He was definitely drunk and she was not able to handle him.
"You will dance when we get aboard?" he half asked, half demanded.
Anything to appease him, she nodded and smiled, "Yes, yes, we'll dance and dance."
"Let's go then," and Spock retrieved her communicator from the bench.
* * *
The transporter chief was too stunned to say anything to either of them. As Christine led the staggering, almost grinning Vulcan out the door, he just shook his head. The last time they'd been at a planet side dance he'd been on duty. Spock sure did let his hair down when he got off ship.
* * *
Christine steered him toward sickbay. Spock didn't want to go there. He wanted to go to the dance floor. "No, this way, Spock," she tried. Spock looked at the direction she was pointing and thought she meant her cabin.
A devilish grin spread across his features and Christine's heart fluttered. He was more drunk than she had thought. In fact he seemed to get worse as the evening wore on than more sober. Following her dutifully he started to pass sickbay when she halted him. "Let's stop here."
Spock frowned. Sickbay wasn't a place conducive to dancing. But, she had already gone inside and he followed. There was no one on duty at the moment. In fact there was only a handful of crew aboard at all due to the festivities. Still, he could dance with her anywhere. The examining table was between them and he reached out for her wrist. She almost got it back in time but his superior strength and longer reach had her stuck. "Dance, you said we would dance."
"And so we shall, just do me a little favor and get on the table please," she said with her best friendly nurse voice.
"Hmm, the table. Oh, you want to do horizontal dancing," he realized and fairly hopped on the platform. Christine swore her hair turned white at the roots.
"No, I mean well, uh... I just want to see if you have a fever or something," she excused and was rewarded with another devilish grin.
"Oh, I have a fever all right," he practically purred and in the instant he moved to hop down on the other side, she was halfway to the door.
Running like she was being chased by a hungry le-matya waiting for dinner, she headed the only direction she knew to go, her cabin. She could get in, lock the door and hope to hell he would leave. It would have been a sight and if she remembered she would have Uhura save the security recordings of that deck to view later. He was only a couple of meters behind her the entire way. He was a Vulcan and his greater speed wasn't really hampered by the inebriated condition. Christine thanked her parents at least five times that she had been a gifted track and field runner in her youth and sprinted to her quarters losing a sandal in the process. She didn't care. Calling out as she ran, "Computer, unlock doors to Chapel, Christine, Lt."
The doors were slow, she nearly ran into them in her haste and was telling them to lock as soon as she was inside. A thud outside the door told her that Spock had not been able to keep from slamming into the door. Breathing hard, she started to calm down and then the doors parted allowing a swaying Vulcan in. She was doomed.
"Computer," she tried in a panic, "Dance selection Swing 3."
The music filled the room and it was loud. Gene Krupa's "Drumboogie" filled the air. Spock didn't allow the fast tempo to deter him. Stalking her almost as prey, he nearly growled, "You said you would dance with me."
"Yes, I did, and now is the perfect time to teach you some faster numbers," she squeaked. She felt like a tiny mouse waiting to be eaten by a large cat.
Spock's hand grasped her waist roughly then became gentle. He didn't care what the dance was. He just wanted her in his arms. Pulling her so close that he could bury his face in her hair, he whispered, "Christine."
She moaned lightly. God, she wanted to just jerk his clothes off. But he was married and she would not, could not be a husband stealer. Knowing it would be futile to resist his dancing anyway, she just gritted her teeth and started running scientific equations through her mind to keep calm. Thinking that if she just stayed dancing, he would at least calm down, she started to sway back and forth and put her arms around his neck.
Smiling, she looked as convincing as possible. Spock breathed in her perfume. She smelled of lilacs and powder. Her skin was smooth and flawless, the hair soft and luxurious. She was a woman who had given him respect as a being, she hadn't treated him the way T'Pring had done. At the mere thought of his ex-betrothed he growled deep inside.
Christine's heart gripped in fear thinking it was aimed at her. So this was what the jokes about Vulcans and their mating habits were about. If she survived she'd write it down in a journal for further research.
Spock allowed her to guide him around the room. The tempo of music was contrary to their movements, but he didn't care. Eventually, the song ended and another began, but he was growing weary of standing upright and eyed the perfectly straightened bed. He just wanted to lie down.
As he pushed her to the bunk, she was on the verge of screaming -- though who would hear her she didn't know -- when he straightened oddly. Something was wrong. He felt so strange. He'd never felt this way before. It was almost an out of body experience.
Christine was between him and the bed when he began to fall forward. Her strength and positioning was no match for his, and as he tumbled forward, he pinned her lying on the bed. Spock was not a heavy man, but heavy enough for her not to be able to move. He had passed out and was a dead weight. She could neither wiggle out from under or shove him off her. She was stuck till he roused. Having tended him in sickbay she knew he was a heavy and sound sleeper. He could stay like this for days.
"Help!" she called, knowing no one would answer. "Spock ... can you hear me?"
The music continued as he slept peacefully with his head pillowed on the nurse's chest. She was exhausted with the idiocy of the situation. Deciding that there was nothing else for her to do, she said wearily, "Computer, stop music and turn off lights. I might as well go to sleep."
* * *
Leonard McCoy woke up in his cabin, but he really didn't remember getting there. A half drunk glass of something blue sat on his bedside shelf and he didn't even want to think of sniffing it. It had been a pretty good evening apparently if he didn't remember any of it. Heading for the shower, he wondered if the rest of the crew were in as bad a shape. Most of the crew should be back aboard.
Dressing and taking a tablet to help his head and stomach, he ventured out in the hall to sickbay. Halfway there he ran across a woman's shoe in the middle of the hall. He thought he recognized it but wasn't sure. Picking it up, he toted it with him to sickbay. The doors parted to reveal a slight mess. A set of the tapes that had been sitting on the little desk that Christine normally occupied was scattered on the floor and a dark red drawstring purse was lying on one of the exam tables that had been turned on to Vulcan norm settings and then left to idle.
He frowned. Christine wasn't careless about leaving the equipment on needlessly. Thinking he'd better find her to ask what was going on, he checked her location first, "Computer, location of Nurse Chapel?"
"Nurse Chapel is in her quarters," replied the disembodied voice.
McCoy took the purse and the shoe with him down the corridor. Her door swung open without him even chiming. That was unusual as well. He could hear a soft moan, almost a rasping sound coming from the room and thinking she was ill, he ordered the lights up.
The sight of one bedraggled nurse laboring to breathe under a still unconscious Vulcan was priceless. Laughing slightly, he went over to wake Christine. One foot was shoeless and he thought of slipping it back on her. "Come on, Cinderella..."
"Leonard, oh, Leonard, get him off me," she cried in despair, and McCoy rolled Spock onto his back allowing the nurse to clamber out.
"Have you been here all night?"
She was trying to loosen up the stiff limbs from staying in one position so long. "I don't know when we got here, but yes, he passed out like that and I went ahead and went to sleep. I'll tell you about it in a minute. See if you can do something about him."
She went into the bath, changed into a fresh uniform, and tried to appear half dignified. Coming out, she was still concerned over the Vulcan's health as she related the evening's events.
"You mean, he was chasing you through the deck, and you ran from him?" McCoy said incredulously.
She was outraged and the ire was evident in the reddening cheeks, "Well, yes, I mean, one, he's drunk and, two ... he's married. You went down there with him."
McCoy started laughing so hard that he thought he was going to die. "Christine, oh man, you're gonna kill me."
"He's not married. He's divorced. That woman he said was his wife wouldn't have anything to do with him. You passed up the opportunity..." he began.
And she finished, "Of a lifetime."
Her howl of disappointment finally roused the Vulcan. Rolling over, he was cold. This was not his cabin, and he was sick, so sick. Seeing the two medical personnel leaning over him, he assumed they had come because he was ill. "I seem to require your services."
"I'll just bet you do. Come on, Spock, can you travel? We'll get you to sickbay."
Spock nodded weakly and had to be supported by both of them to get to the infirmary. He didn't ask why he was in the nurse's cabin. In fact he didn't know what cabin he had been in. He could feel his stomach protesting against the contents it held and he barely made it to the basin before everything came up. Christine was so disgusted she didn't even want to hand him a towel. It wasn't every day she could get her hands on the man of her dreams and now she'd screwed the whole thing up.
Spock's expression was one of utter misery. "What did I do last night?" he asked, completely unable to recall anything.
She sighed, "I can only tell you one thing for certain, Vulcan's shouldn't drink Altair Spring Water."
He nodded and bent back over the basin. Never again...