Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of Paramount/Viacom. This story is the property of and is copyright (c) 2006 by Mistress V. Rated PG.

 

The Accidental Eavesdropper

Mistress V

 

Spock's plans for the evening changed abruptly.

 

"It's my ulcers," his friend complained as they entered the turbolift at the end of alpha shift.

 

"You do not have ulcers that I know of, Jim," he replied.

 

"No, but Mendez is giving me a couple of beauties, I'm sure of it. I'd better get some rest and start dealing with the final paperwork tomorrow. I'll take a raincheck on our chess game. See you bright and early."

 

"Affirmative." He and the captain were beginning the long and tedious process of the final midmission status report, the one Mendez would be reading before the ship even docked. The prospect of the next day's activities was not a pleasant one.

 

Spock let himself into the quarters he shared with his wife. She was at a water movement class being held in the ship's pool and would not be back for awhile. That was good. It had been a very long day working with Mr. Scott in the Jeffries tube and he was covered with dust, debris, oil and dried perspiration residue. A shower was just the thing he required, then he would surprise his wife when she returned.

 

He wrinkled his nose a bit at the smell his uniform tunic was giving off. Vulcans did not normally sweat much, but many hours in cramped quarters had caused his cooling system to work overtime. It was not as bad as the encounter with the mud puddle a few weeks back but he had to admit, he positively reeked. He threw his uniform into the bin and grabbed some soap, then turned on the spray.

 

A thud surprised him a bit later as he finished toweling off. He poked his head out of the bathroom and saw Christine's gym bag on the floor of their sleeping alcove. She had returned. Spock threw on his jeans and was just about to sneak up on his wife when he realized she was speaking to someone. Of course. He'd forgotten about the subspace call Kala arranged, details about her upcoming wedding. He reached for a sweatshirt to make himself presentable, then stopped short at what he heard.

 

"So did it stay on at all?" Kala was asking. Her tone was unmistakable. Spock knew she was inquiring about the stunning bathing suit she'd made for his wife. He sensed his wife's blush and realized he, too, was turning a nice shade of chartreuse. The suit had stayed on until they reached the quiet cove, but outrageously naughty thoughts had been passing between the two of them during the journey and lunch.

 

He realized he was in a bit of a dilemma. He could not just walk out there right now, at least not the way the conversation was headed. Would Christine think he was spying on her? That was not a good thing, so he heightened his psi barriers to preclude any unintentional contact on his part. He'd simply wait a minute, then make an entrance.

 

Unfortunately, his human side got the better of him. It was clear his wife had no idea he was there---he had not even gotten the merest hint of acknowledgment. What other things would she and Kala discuss? His curiosity, something his mother constantly reminded him that he and his father shared in great amounts (though she called it by a quite different term) won out. He eased himself back onto their bed and sat down to listen, though his Vulcan side proceeded to clobber him a good one. Tough, he decided. He could resume being Super Vulcan in the morning. If pressed, he could say he'd been dozing.

 

The conversation turned to details of the upcoming wedding of Greg Dillon and Kala, which both of them were participating in. It was to be a traditional Klingon ceremony and they had duties to perform that were unique to the Klin culture. For some reason, Sarek had been unusually pleased about this, and that further piqued Spock's curiosity. Ambassador Kl'o'rox and his father seemed to have a long history together, something he did not know much about. He shrugged the whole thing off as an ambassadorial view of cultural relations, but was still looking forward to the promised chech'tluth his father said he'd share with him in New York, over a rather fascinating story.

 

His wife's startled gasp brought him back to the present. She was adamantly stating she could not possibly wear something. Spock hesitantly peered around the doorway. When he was confident she could not see him, he looked at the holographic mini image that was being projected, impressed with its clarity. Then he saw what Christine was referring to. The dress had no back whatsoever, just a splendid (though simulated, and miniature) view of what would be his wife's bare back, with its beautifully contoured spine. Right down to the coccyx. His ears flushed once more, which surprised him, given the amount of blood that had suddenly decided to journey south, and fast.

 

Kala and his wife were discussing him now, so he willed his body to cooperate, but just barely. He flushed even greener, the irony of which was not lost on him. The topic of conversation was his rather jealous streak. Jealousy? Was he really so possessive? He'd presumed he was just being protective of his wife, but other people obviously had different opinions on the matter. He closed his eyes in shame as he remembered the scathing look he gave his friend Jim the other day, when they met up in the transporter room before beaming down to Rigel II for shore leave. Kirk was only being social, he knew, but the lingering glance he'd given Christine's backside had caused the ancient monster to rear its ugly head. Illogical, yes, yet part of him still believed he would wake up from this very pleasant dream to find himself unbonded and permanently attached to some new computer for solace. He'd have to work on this. What was that Terran phrase, "loosen up a bit".

 

The topic changed to fishing, which pleased him. He did so enjoy the pastime and planned to indulge in Florida if the opportunity presented itself. Ah, Kala and his wife were talking about her honeymoon, which was planned for Tahiti.

 

Then he frowned. What did the term 'separated at birth' mean, and why did Christine refer to himself and Greg Dillon with that phrase? He was saved from further speculation by the outrageous comment Kala made before the transmission terminated. He and his wife had apparently authored a tome, he knew the idiom well enough, and also had a very good idea what the topic was. His ears flushed again, along with the rest of him.

 

Christine was getting up, headed for the bookshelf. She'd see him, what was he supposed to do now? He had not thought this through well enough, so now he'd be paying a hefty price. What had his mother said, be spontaneous? Now would be a very good time to practice that advice. He shrugged off his sweatshirt, crossed his arms suggestively across his bare chest, and poked his head around the door of their sleeping quarters.

 

"Good evening, Doctor." He tried for a seductive tone.

 

* * *

 

"Have I really been so ill-tempered these past days?" Spock let his hand caress his wife's smooth bare back, recalling the dress design that would emphasize it. He'd assured Christine that Kala did not need to design a modesty cover. "I am sorry you thought I was angry, I did not mean to give you that idea." He'd wanted to kick himself into the Delta quadrant at the moment.

 

"Afraid so, Commander" she replied as she burrowed against his chest. "But it's to be expected, even if Vulcans don't get moody." She kissed the key he wore on the chain around his neck. "And I forgive you, I got pretty snappy myself."

 

"My mother once stated my father was as 'grouchy as a grizzly bear with a hangover.' I wondered what that illogical phrase meant, but now have a very good idea." He gave his wife a lingering kiss, full of suggestion as to how they might spend the next few hours. "And I also now realize that Terrans seem to enjoy combining an excess of alcohol with native animals when naming drinking establishments. There are many of these in Key West, and I hope we can visit them all."

 

"Where did you find that out? In your Vulcan guidebooks?" Christine was always impressed with the trivia her husband seemed to pull out of thin air at times, but bar names?

 

"No, from this," he replied as he reached for a PADD on the nightstand. He handed it to his wife.

 

"The Best Places to Kiss in Florida." She raised an eyebrow. "Spock of Vulcan, what would your father say if he knew you consulted such an illogical volume?" Then she began reading from the list highlighted. "The Tipsy Parrot. The Drunken Manatee. The Soused Pompano." There were more names, and it was clear to Christine that this vacation was going to be more interesting than their honeymoon, if that was possible.

 

"He recommended the title himself, my love. My parents have been to Florida many times." He raised an eyebrow himself. "I am certain they did not choose Las Vegas as a place to take Ambassador and Lady Kl'o'rox merely for its natural beauty, either. My mother urged me to visit there when I was at the Academy, but I...refused. That is why I was so pleased you suggested we stop there on our honeymoon." He nuzzled his wife's ear, then purred into it. "Las Vegas brings out the...amorous side of people, do you not think?"

 

A picture flashed across Christine's mind. She gasped. Force fields had been a great improvement to the old, bulky restraints that used to be required on roller coasters---she and Spock had kissed themselves silly on the one at the New York, New York--- but....

 

"That's not possible! At least not on an upside down coaster!" She looked at her husband skeptically. "Where do you think up these fantasies?"

 

"I do not know, but shall we speculate on what might transpire in Florida instead?" Spock replaced the PADD on the nightstand and gathered his wife against him, ready for more erotic adventures.

 

He was very glad Jim got that headache.

 

FIN