[TWBI] Diner
Title: Diner
Series: That Would Be Illogical
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG13
Length: 1001
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Summary: This is not the first illogical action I have ever participated in because of James Tiberius Kirk. I doubt it will be the last. Masterlist
Previous: Chess
Jim is flirting with the young waitress who is standing behind the counter of the diner.
She is attractive by Terran standards. She has a thin face framed by gentle curls of brown hair. It can be assumed that her body, which is obscured from my view, is also attractive. She is showing an insurmountable amount of cleavage; her breasts are close to tumbling out of her tight, white buttoned shirt. She is leaning forward over the counter, purposefully exposing even more of her chest and causing Jim’s eyes to wander down. His reaction seems to please her.
I’m sitting at a booth off to the side. It has been five minutes exactly since Jim took my breakfast back to get waffles that didn’t have a large slice of Canadian bacon on top. To say that I felt nothing towards his blatant flirting would be a lie. I do feel a prang of annoyance and jealousy within me, but this is not the first time this has happened and history shows that the feelings will quickly subside when he is back at my side, his attention on me. I’m sure if I asked him to stop he would, but I know it is only a force of habit and that he has no true interest in anyone else.
The cook rings a bell. The waitress reaches back and gives Jim a new set of waffles sans bacon. He smiles and winks at her before walking back over. He sets the plate down in front of me and scoots into the booth once again. “Who does that? A slab of ham on top of waffles is just weird.”
He looks at me. His grin disappears and his face gradually becomes flushed with realization. My face is as stoic as usual, but I can tell he is sensing my feelings of annoyance through our connection; I did not bother blocking it.
“Look, I didn’t- It wasn’t-” Jim stammers. “It’s habit, ok? I’m sorry.”
I raise an eyebrow. “To what are you referring?”
He frowns. “Don’t play dumb. You can’t be that annoyed only over the bacon.”
“If you are referring to your flirtation, do not concern yourself.”
“You’re upset. And don’t go back to all of that ‘Vulcans don’t have feels’ shit.”
I pour a modest amount of syrup onto my waffles. “I admit I feel some annoyance, but it is nothing that is disconcerting.”
He eyes me suspiciously and pokes at his omelet with his fork.
The waitress walks over, attempting to put as much swing in her hips as she can, and pours Jim a refill of coffee. He does not look up her and only stares heatedly at me. She shoots me a sharp, angry glance, assuming that I have said something very rude and offensive. Why else would he fail to acknowledge her presence?
When she walks away, he leans in. “Why not?”
I am puzzled. “Why not?”
“Why aren’t you upset?”
I fight the urge to smile. “Jim, what is our waitress’s name?”
He pulls back slightly, confusion on his face. “What?”
“The waitress you have been flirting with, what is her name?”
He hesitates for a long moment. “I dunno,” he finally admits.
“Paula.”
“How do you know that?”
“She introduced herself when we sat down.”
“Oh.”
“What’s the name of the receptionist that you flirted with this morning when you handed her our room key?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked, but I gave him a pointed look. He thought for a moment. “Alice.” I shake my head. “I mean, Annie. Abigail? Aubrey?”
“Lauren was the name given on her name tag. What is the name of the man you flirted with at the bus stop?”
“I have absolutely no idea.”
“Jonathan.”
“Ok, how the hell do you know his name?”
“I do not. That one I fabricated.”
He looks at me incredulously. Vulcans do not generally lie, though I make exceptions when I am teasing Jim. He realizes this and sits back, crossing his arms. A smirk plays on the edge of his lips. “Ok. What’s your point?”
“Why should I be upset that you flirt with others when you never bother to remember their names, if you even take the trouble to ask it of them?”
His face finally turns into a full smirk.
“I do not understand why you seem so upset that I do not have a negative reaction. It is illogical that you would want such a thing.”
He shrugs, suddenly looking away anxiously. His leg begins to bounce, conveying jitteriness. “You always seemed so possessive before.” He starts shoveling large pieces of omelet into his mouth.
“I am only possessive when someone bestows bodily contact on you beyond conventional societal standards.” I correct. “Do you feel less confident of my feelings when I do not react?”
Jim’s leg stops moving and he looks at me, grinning sheepishly. “Of course not. It's just...”
“You prefer me when I am more possessive?”
“Yeah, I like when you’re possessive,” he says slyly. “It’s a real turn-on.”
My eyes widen slightly. “Then I will have to refrain from doing so.”
“What? Why?”
“I would not want you to become more frequently aroused than you already are. I would like to see more than just a bedroom.”
He laughs. It is loud and warm, and I bask in it. “I guess everyone is entitled to their own opinions.”
The waitress comes over with our bill. He grins at her as he takes the old-fashioned diner receipt. When she walks away, he looks down to see that he has been given a second piece of paper. It is a ripped scrap with her name and number scribbled on it.
My eyebrow rises. I promptly grab the note, tear it up and leave the booth to depart from the establishment, my hands clasped casually at the small of my back. I am followed by more of Jim’s laughter as he walks after me.
Next: The Drink