elliewood | Fic: Consort, Chapter 11

I hate it when women do that thing, when everything's going great, you're having fun, you're feeling smooth, and all of a sudden, they hit you with that thing that they do that just sucks the happy out of the moment. Nyota's a hell of a woman, in a class by herself, and she's got that thing down to a fucking science.

We were having coffee in the HQ cafe, a smaller joint than the cafeteria with little tiny tables and huge cups of hot brewed heaven. We just ran in to each other out of the blue -- she was on her way to do more recordings in the language lab and I was headed to Deposition Number Infinity-Plus-Who-Gives-a-Fuck, and we said screw work, we need java. So we hit the cafe and squeezed in between all the sweaty cadets to fill our mugs, then grabbed a table for what I thought was going to be twenty minutes of relaxation and conversation.

The relaxing part lasted about ten seconds, long enough for her to take a sip, put her mug down on the table, look me in the eye, and ask, "So. How's it going with Spock?"

Uhhh...

Fuckity fuck. Do you see how screwed I am here? If I say "good," she'll get pissed because it sounds like I'm gloating, like Oh sorry your man dumped you for me but yay I'm so happy. But if I say "bad," it'll piss her off because it sounds like I'm dissing what she used to have and probably still wants, like what was hers isn't good enough for me and it was all for nothing. A straight-up lose-lose.

So I'm thinking, We could have gone all day without you going there. But she's looking at me, expecting an answer, and when Uhura wants something from you, you damn sure cough it up. So I went with the first option, figuring it was what she was less likely to not want to hear. If that makes sense.

"Fine. Just fine. Great, actually."

"Don't worry, I don't have an agenda. I'm just curious."

I was about to say I didn't think she had an agenda, but then I realize that I thought she did. Time to backpedal. Lie #1.

"I'm not worried. I just didn't know..."

if you've moved on

"It's all right. I have other fish to fry."

"Yeah?!" This was interesting. I prepped myself with a giant swallow of coffee.

"Yeah. I'm gonna make my move soon."

"Move on who?"

"Oh come on. You don't know? Are you that oblivious?"

Think Kirk who who

Oh my GOD

"Bones?"

"Bingo." She looked down at the table for a moment and smiled, and I thought, Damn, I'd like someone to smile over me like that.

"But enough about me. Does Spock cook for you?"

I guess I'm not off the hook yet.

"Yeah. All vegan shit, but I'm getting used to it." Lie #2, beeteedubs.

"What do you all do together?"

Uhhh...

"What do you mean?"

"You know, what do you two do for fun? Scrabble, antiquing, Hide the Salami?"

I laughed so hard I blew coffee out my nose. Not a good move.

"Seriously. Do you see me 'antiquing?' I got too much shit as it is."

"You got nothing. Practically everything in your apartment is stuff Spock got for you."

"Yeah, so? I like to travel light."

She sipped her coffee. "You're not traveling. Any more."

Um.

So now I see where this is going. Good thing I went with the first option.

"You're right. Maybe I'll take up knitting, make a few blankets or something, make the place more homey." Lie #3.

"You don't knit blankets, dumbass. You knit afghans."

Honest to God, I thought those were the same thing -- I'm clearly out of my territory here. Time to backpedal again, change the topic, but she's too fast for me, like she sees the gears in my head work and knows exactly where to toss the monkey wrench.

"So, what's your pet name for him?"

Uhhh...

"My what?"

"Your pet name. Your special nickname for him."

"I'm supposed to have one?"

"Oh my God." She pushed her coffee mug off to the side so she could lean in toward me, those eyes like phasers, taking me apart. "You don't have one? Seriously? So what do you call him when it's just you and him, when you're alone together?"

"Just 'Spock,' I guess. I gotta have something else?"

"Yes you gotta have something else! You need something for just the two of you. Something more personal, to show him he's special to you."

Well, two can play the monkey wrench game.

"All right, you obviously got this relationship stuff down, what was your pet name for him?"

She leaned back and folded her arms. Classic defensive position, Psych 1001. "None of your beeswax."

"Oh, come on. You bust my balls over the fact that I don't have some special nickname for him, and now you won't tell me what yours was? That's weak, lady."

"Fine. It was 'The Giant Anaconda.'"

snort

REALLY?

"Bullshit."

"Yeah, that's right, it's bullshit. But at least I had one. And I'll bet he has one for you. What does he call you?"

"He doesn't call me anything. 'Jim,' mostly. Sometimes 'James,' when he's trying to make a point. Sometimes..."