humbled through opportunities given despite the fact

[perform_admirably]

Attending open houses has been ... more work than Spock had anticipated, on all fronts. He'd never had the experience before, having grown up in his father's home, ancestral property which had been handed, in turn, down from his father's father, and so on, ad nauseum. That home did not exist anymore. Vulcan did not exist anymore, not in Spock's particular reality.

And now, for the time being, in this particular reality, nor did the Starship, Enterprise.

Jim Kirk is here, however, which, though he would never put it into so many words, certainly not in front of those he was not truly close to, means that Spock has a home Regardless..

Physical walls, an address, notwithstanding, so long as Jim Kirk was nearby, Spock knew that he had a home, in one manner or another. Though Jim, perhaps, could have picked a more convenient time to have an unfortunate, rushed lab accident. Though Spock is impossibly grateful that Jim was not injured permanently, in ways that the technology in Darrow was not as prepared to heal, there was still, maybe, a modicum of humor to be found.

Winter was a terrible time to be looking for a home.

They had already gone through multiple real estate magazines, attended multiple open houses, but still here they found themselves. Spock moved back to the table that Jim sat at in the small, warm cafe with two paper cups in his hands. One for Jim, and one for himself, which he slid across to Jim as he took his seat, folding long limbs onto a stool suited for them.

"I apologize," he tells Jim. "I don't want a swimming pool, so it was a dealbreaker." He lifts his eyes to search for Jim's bright blue, apologetic and fondly warm. There is something to be said for the tender amusement that the entire situation, strangely, fills him with.

Comments

[to_boldly]

Jim droops theatrically against his chair, fighting a smile all the while. "A man sinks to the bottom of the ocean one time and suddenly all pools are a dealbreaker," he sighs, looking up and then swiftly away from Spock. "Don't do those eyes at me, I'll get excited and incite a public display, and we have got to find something."

Jim can only be amused by tiny hotel liquors forever, after all, and he can't use his phaser until it's no longer necessary to supplement the sound distortion field that conceals the presence of their cat. And Jim really likes his phaser.

"What about further out of the city? There's heaps of houses we haven't tried out there, probably bigger and cheaper."

[perform_admirably]

"I admit that price was one of my lesser considerations." Still a consideration, but only barely. Only if it came down to the need for tie-breaking. Spock lifts his gaze, sitting up straighter in his seat to stare down the length of his nose at Jim, but it's a display more than anything. Very close to a joke Spock had not realized he was making any sort of eyes at Jim, until it had been pointed out. Since it had, he might as well rectify it, even if it's simply for the sake of private humor.

"Distance had been one of my more chief concerns. Traveling has time and fuel costs, and those are only chiefest of the inconveniences. However, if there is nothing more suitable in the nearer homes we'd looked at, even those inconveniences can become more ideal ones. There are always going to be inconveniences."

Spock ruins the effect, perhaps, by taking a long drink of the peppermint tea in his cup, before leaning forward onto the table, folding his arms neatly over each other to rest his weight on his elbows.

"I admit that I didn't like the idea of living in a suburb to begin with." Not an entirely logical concern. But they made Spock uncomfortable. It was never the life he had imagined himself living. One extreme or the other was better. The ignorant bustle of the city, or the intimate solitude of rural living

[to_boldly]

Truth be told, all of Spock's looks have an effect on Jim - it's his ability to resist them that is subject to varying degrees. The one he's wearing now, for instance, is what Jim refers to as Spock's All Business look, which makes his fingers itch with wanting to get at Spock's unmussed hair.

Curling his fingers solidly around his cup, Jim nods. "I'm not manicuring a goddamn lawn because of some power mad HOA," he agrees. "I mean more like, the ones that are kind of secluded. Not farmhouses, but in the country. We'd have more privacy."

And, it should be mentioned, not that Jim is going to, they'll be less likely to blow anyone else up should experiments return to past form.

[perform_admirably]

Spock knows the look that flutters over Jim's face; he's glad, if only for this moment, to be sitting outside of arms' length. Otherwise, he's not sure what form of harassment he may suffer this time. Although he suffers them all, anymore, with a sense of quiet dignity, and a degree of fondness. Jim's lack of predictability is, in itself, comfortingly predictable. While it's true, all is right in Spock's relative universe.

Taking another long sip of his warm tea, he sighs afterward.

"I would never ask you to manicure a goddamn lawn, either," he says, steady and matter-of-fact. Not just because Spock prefers plants that grow just the way they want to, naturally. "The country. Sounds workable Darrow is not that big a place to begin with. Even the illusion of peacefulness might be encouraging. And also, from such a distance, the neighbors would not have to worry about their windows and smoke alarms. Should anything unexpected happen. I'm hoping that it will not," Spock adds, sharpening his gaze a little as he focuses it on Jim's face, searching out his eyes. Spock didn't hold a grudge, but.

No, Spock did not like to hold a grudge.

He definitely was not completely over how much worry he'd felt, over Jim's accident during his dilithium synthesization trials.

[to_boldly]

Jim grins - it's impossible not to when Spock swears in the measured, even tones he favors, but it doesn't last for long. "I can't rule out the unexpected," he says, "But if anything blows up, it won't be because I failed to take the proper precautions."

There's no way he's putting Spock through that again, and anyway, Jim's right eyebrow has only just grown back.

"This one," he says, pushing a sheaf of paper across the table to Spock, "Has nearly a mile between it and any other home in any direction. It needs work, but we'd probably want to gut anything we bought, anyway, and besides. Think of all the opportunities you'll have to prove how much stronger you are than me." Jim's grin returns. "Hmm, Executive Beam Lifter Spock?"

[perform_admirably]

He'd like to say I hope you aren't feeling guilty, but it wouldn't add anything meaningful to the conversation. Does Spock have a hope that Jim will feel more at ease about what happened in the future, certainly. But at present, Spock knows that Jim is feeling some negative emotion over it, mostly directed at Spock himself, and that there will be little way to easily reason Jim out of it.

He listens to reason; Jim does. But only when he chooses that it matters more than anything else.

Spock takes the paper from Jim, dark eyes scanning back and forth, reading, looking for anything that stands out as particularly undesireable more than anything that stands out as particularly desireable. One is more important than the other, in his calculus.

"Yes," he agrees. "I will also have the opportunity to tout my evident, superior patience and stamina. The front yard has old growth pines. The shade would save on cooling costs in the summer."

[to_boldly]

"And your diminished need for sleep," Jim adds, with absolutely no compunctions about exploiting it. They could remake their home in record time for a pair of amateurs, provided that half their number were Vulcan.

"Do you want it cool?" he asks, spinning the page around to point to a spot as yet indistinguishable from any other blank space on the blue print. "We could have a garden here for your vegetables. And another one here." Jim points again. "For a different kind of garden. Terrans in this century call it Zen gardening."