[TWBI] The Drink
Title: The Drink
Series: That Would Be Illogical
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG13
Length: 939
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: Diner
I stare down at the drink Jim has placed before me. I must admit I have no idea what to think. I have attended many diplomatic dinners on many different alien worlds that have many diverse customs. I have drunk clear, opaque, frothy, chunky and fuming drinks at varying temperatures and in numerous hues. The drink before me now is nothing like any of the others, and as I look at it, I’m attempting to push down a growing feeling of disgust.
Jim sits across from me, seeming to be gauging my reaction to it, amused. “Just drink it.”
“…What is it?” I ask, keeping as much emotion out of my voice as I can.
“It’s a Terran drink.”
I look up at him, an eyebrow raised. “I lived on Earth for three years and had never seen this.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the real adventuresome type. I can’t even imagine you in a mall.”
“This is sold in shopping malls?”
“Yeah, there was a kiosk that sold these at the mall near the Academy. They’re a big hit. You never saw anyone walking around campus with one of these?”
“No,” I say, half as an answer to his question and half as a refusal to try it.
He gives me the look he usually does when I am being stubborn over doing something that is considered mundane and simple to any Terran. “It’s not made of chocolate.”
I frown slightly. “I have already told you that Vulcans do not become intoxicated from chocolate. It is merely a rumor.”
“You always refuse to eat chocolate.”
“Because it has little nutritional value, which I am going to assume is the same with this drink.”
Jim gives an exaggerated sigh and leans back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. We both sit motionless in the middle of the large and moving crowd of the mess hall.
Dr. McCoy sits down next to Jim with a tray of meatloaf and mash potatoes. He looks between the two of us bewildered until he sees the drink before me. A large toothy grin appears on his face. He glances at Jim. “Tryin’ to make the Vulcan drink bubble tea?”
I look at McCoy, both eyebrows raised. “Is that the name of this beverage?” I look down to it once more. Contained in a curvy glass is a light green milky liquid. At the bottom sits many marble-sized black spheres. A straw with a larger-than-normal circumference sits in the drink. “Why is it called ‘bubble tea’? It looks like neither.”
“It’s milk tea,” Jim explains, “and the tapioca looks like bubbles.”
“Tapioca?”
“Tapioca is…” he trails off, apparently unsure as to what it is himself.
“Was this replicated?” McCoy asks, picking it up and examining it.
Jim nods. “I had Scotty upgrade the replicators. Again. I think he’s getting annoyed, but I keep thinking of more stuff I want. I’d upgrade them myself, but considering what happened last time, I don’t think-”
McCoy slams the drink down with a small bang, nearly causing the ‘tea’ to spill out, and looks at the captain angrily. “I can’t get a good chili to save my life, or the life of anyone else in this tin can, and you upgrade the replicators for weird shit like bubble tea and spotted dick and that cabbage kimchi stuff.”
“Doctor, I fail to see how chili would save the life of anyone. On the contrary, would it not-”
“Shut up, Spock. It’s an expression.”
“I didn’t want the kimchi.” Jim says defensively. “Lt. Park and Ensign Chung had been asking me to get it for months."
“Yeah, well I know why you asked for the spotted dick.”
Jim smirks.
“How old’re you?”
“Look, the replicators make chili; you just don’t like it. You want the recipe tweaked, you go complain to Scotty. Just don’t tell him I was the one that sent you to him.”
“There’s an art to cookin’ chili. It takes skill and precision and experience. You can’t just type in some equation and make a perfect chili appear out of those damned boxes.”
“Eat your meatloaf.” Jim snaps. He looks at me, then the ‘bubble tea’, then me again. “Dammit, Bones. Don’t distract me.” He aggressively slides it back before me, to my dismay. “Drink. Or I’m not sleeping with you for a week.”
McCoy rolls his eyes. “Can you even last that long?”
Jim shoots him a dirty look. “Why are you suddenly taking Spock’s side?”
“I’m not. I’m just sayin’, it sounds like you’d be torturin’ yourself more than him. Although the knowledge that you two aren’t rollin’ around in the sheets’ll let me sleep a little better at night.”
“Shut it.” Jim snaps and bangs his hand on the doctor’s tray, hitting a fork and causing a large dollop of mash potato to dart through the air and hit the back of Ensign Chekov’s head.
Jim quickly looks the other way and leans onto the table, propping his head up on his arm in an attempt to look nonchalant and to hide the plate of pounded vegetable. In his hurriedness, his elbow hits the glass of ‘bubble tea’ causing it to spill over the table. Little balls of ‘tapioca’ roll to the floor.
Jim’s face becomes extremely red, knowing that he wasn’t deceiving anyone in the mess hall with his pose. McCoy has a hand covering his face and is shaking from his attempts to contain his laughter. I am trying tremendously hard not to smile. I doubt this was the purpose Surak had in mind when he taught control of one’s emotions.
Next: Solid Ground
Series: That Would Be Illogical
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG13
Length: 939
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: Diner
I stare down at the drink Jim has placed before me. I must admit I have no idea what to think. I have attended many diplomatic dinners on many different alien worlds that have many diverse customs. I have drunk clear, opaque, frothy, chunky and fuming drinks at varying temperatures and in numerous hues. The drink before me now is nothing like any of the others, and as I look at it, I’m attempting to push down a growing feeling of disgust.
Jim sits across from me, seeming to be gauging my reaction to it, amused. “Just drink it.”
“…What is it?” I ask, keeping as much emotion out of my voice as I can.
“It’s a Terran drink.”
I look up at him, an eyebrow raised. “I lived on Earth for three years and had never seen this.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the real adventuresome type. I can’t even imagine you in a mall.”
“This is sold in shopping malls?”
“Yeah, there was a kiosk that sold these at the mall near the Academy. They’re a big hit. You never saw anyone walking around campus with one of these?”
“No,” I say, half as an answer to his question and half as a refusal to try it.
He gives me the look he usually does when I am being stubborn over doing something that is considered mundane and simple to any Terran. “It’s not made of chocolate.”
I frown slightly. “I have already told you that Vulcans do not become intoxicated from chocolate. It is merely a rumor.”
“You always refuse to eat chocolate.”
“Because it has little nutritional value, which I am going to assume is the same with this drink.”
Jim gives an exaggerated sigh and leans back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. We both sit motionless in the middle of the large and moving crowd of the mess hall.
Dr. McCoy sits down next to Jim with a tray of meatloaf and mash potatoes. He looks between the two of us bewildered until he sees the drink before me. A large toothy grin appears on his face. He glances at Jim. “Tryin’ to make the Vulcan drink bubble tea?”
I look at McCoy, both eyebrows raised. “Is that the name of this beverage?” I look down to it once more. Contained in a curvy glass is a light green milky liquid. At the bottom sits many marble-sized black spheres. A straw with a larger-than-normal circumference sits in the drink. “Why is it called ‘bubble tea’? It looks like neither.”
“It’s milk tea,” Jim explains, “and the tapioca looks like bubbles.”
“Tapioca?”
“Tapioca is…” he trails off, apparently unsure as to what it is himself.
“Was this replicated?” McCoy asks, picking it up and examining it.
Jim nods. “I had Scotty upgrade the replicators. Again. I think he’s getting annoyed, but I keep thinking of more stuff I want. I’d upgrade them myself, but considering what happened last time, I don’t think-”
McCoy slams the drink down with a small bang, nearly causing the ‘tea’ to spill out, and looks at the captain angrily. “I can’t get a good chili to save my life, or the life of anyone else in this tin can, and you upgrade the replicators for weird shit like bubble tea and spotted dick and that cabbage kimchi stuff.”
“Doctor, I fail to see how chili would save the life of anyone. On the contrary, would it not-”
“Shut up, Spock. It’s an expression.”
“I didn’t want the kimchi.” Jim says defensively. “Lt. Park and Ensign Chung had been asking me to get it for months."
“Yeah, well I know why you asked for the spotted dick.”
Jim smirks.
“How old’re you?”
“Look, the replicators make chili; you just don’t like it. You want the recipe tweaked, you go complain to Scotty. Just don’t tell him I was the one that sent you to him.”
“There’s an art to cookin’ chili. It takes skill and precision and experience. You can’t just type in some equation and make a perfect chili appear out of those damned boxes.”
“Eat your meatloaf.” Jim snaps. He looks at me, then the ‘bubble tea’, then me again. “Dammit, Bones. Don’t distract me.” He aggressively slides it back before me, to my dismay. “Drink. Or I’m not sleeping with you for a week.”
McCoy rolls his eyes. “Can you even last that long?”
Jim shoots him a dirty look. “Why are you suddenly taking Spock’s side?”
“I’m not. I’m just sayin’, it sounds like you’d be torturin’ yourself more than him. Although the knowledge that you two aren’t rollin’ around in the sheets’ll let me sleep a little better at night.”
“Shut it.” Jim snaps and bangs his hand on the doctor’s tray, hitting a fork and causing a large dollop of mash potato to dart through the air and hit the back of Ensign Chekov’s head.
Jim quickly looks the other way and leans onto the table, propping his head up on his arm in an attempt to look nonchalant and to hide the plate of pounded vegetable. In his hurriedness, his elbow hits the glass of ‘bubble tea’ causing it to spill over the table. Little balls of ‘tapioca’ roll to the floor.
Jim’s face becomes extremely red, knowing that he wasn’t deceiving anyone in the mess hall with his pose. McCoy has a hand covering his face and is shaking from his attempts to contain his laughter. I am trying tremendously hard not to smile. I doubt this was the purpose Surak had in mind when he taught control of one’s emotions.
Next: Solid Ground