Spock's POV: An Exercise

Spock had been sitting in the quad of Starfleet Academy with Cadet Kirk for the past 1.28 earth hours, each of them absorbed in individual academic pursuits. Or rather, Spock had been engrossed in his work. 9.2 minutes ago, the cadet had begun to sigh in a most distracting fashion.

Though the softness of his exhalations would have rendered them nearly inaudible for a human under the rushing of the wind through the oak trees around the perimeter of the main lawn, Spock's Vulcan ears picked them out with ease – a fact the cadet was no doubt aware of. Ignoring the nonverbal bids for attention, he continued to skim over the latest scheduling plan for summer courses. He would have to inform Dean Nisbah that the wilderness training rotations would come into direct conflict with the projected start date of the fall semester.

Kirk sighed again, this time with increased volume. Spock had not previously assumed that a sigh could sound pointed, but he had learned over the past 10.38 years of his enlistment that humans possessed many hidden and seemingly improbable talents.

He looked up from the schedule to study the cadet, who had abandoned even the pretence of being engaged in his course work sometime in the past half hour. He was sprawled on his back, an arm flung over his eyes to protect them against the sun. The cadet sighed once more, in an even more exaggerated manner than the previous six times, the force of his exhalation making his chest expand and contract deeply with the effort.

"Is there something you wish to discuss, Cadet?"

Kirk moved his arm to rest across his forehead, and turned to meet Spock's gaze, the bright sunlight bleaching his eyes a blue several shades lighter than they might otherwise appear. An unrepentant smirk lit his features.

"No. Why do you ask?"

Spock arched a brow, and waited. Kirk shook his head and chuckled as he turned back to study the cloud-streaked sky.

"How can you concentrate on work out here?" he finally asked, waving his arm carelessly before he tucked it beneath his head.

"I believe you insisted that such an abnormally temperate day would be 'wasted' indoors, and that relocation would foster renewed energy toward completing our respective projects."

"I meant we should take a break and toss a Frisbee, or something."

"While I am unfamiliar with what a 'Frisbee' is, I assume it somehow relates to an outdoor recreational sport. If this is the case, I must question how engaging in physical activity could possibly result in a heightened level of concentration."

The cadet rolled to his side and propped himself up on his elbow, jaw braced firmly in his hand.

"Don't you ever get restless?"

"No," Spock said, bemused when Kirk laughed in response. "I have said something amusing."

Kirk's laugher faded into a wide smile. "No, not really."

Spock repressed a sigh; if Kirk did not immediately explain the motivation behind his emotional responses when asked, there was only a 13.9% chance he would do so upon further inquiry. Spock turned back to his PADD, and called up the latest essays from his Advanced Xenolinguistics class. He tensed when the cadet reached over to pull the PADD from his grasp, their fingers coming within three centimeters of touching. He looked up sharply.

"I've been trying to capture your attention, Professor, if you haven't been able to tell," Kirk said with…reproach, Spock recognized- but the small quiver at the corner of the cadet's frown signaled that he was feigning the emotion, a common and highly illogical practice among humans that Spock had not yet come to comprehend.

He relaxed himself by taking a deeper breath then he generally required in the oxygen-rich atmosphere of San Francisco. "You have it, Cadet."

When Kirk grinned openly, Spock suppressed with difficulty the now-familiar feeling the gesture usually elicited.

"So." Kirk settled himself less than a meter away in what Spock believed Terrans called an "Indian style" position. "I heard you accepted Uhura as your TA for fall semester."

Spock repressed a sudden urge to smile. "Yes, I did."

Kirk pursed his lips, twirling Spock's stylus deftly between his fingers. "I thought you were considering that Martian woman…Selena?"

"Cadet Ramirez recently discovered that she and her husband are expecting a child. She has decided to take an accelerated course load over the summer and fall semesters to ensure she will graduate before the baby is due."

"That's great," Kirk said; his tone implied otherwise. "And Uhura was the only one left in the running?"

"Yes. She was the only other prospective candidate I was confident would be capable of managing not only her own fifth-year coursework, but also the additional research and grading I will require assistance with."

Kirk nodded, his gaze sweeping the quad. "And I suppose that'll mean lots of cozy nights with you two curled up in your office, giggling over improper punctuation and flawed linguistic hypotheses…"

Spock raised a single brow. Kirk flushed and cleared his throat. He dropped the stylus abruptly, sending it skittering over the smooth surface of the PADD and into the grass.

"Right. I mean- I'm sure it'll be a nice arrangement for the two of you." Kirk's hand began to rub at the back of his neck- a gesture Spock had come to understand as a signal of embarrassment or trepidation. "God knows what kind of crazy shenanigans you guys will get up to. Probably rewire the universal translator so that it spits out chicken squawks instead of Standard."

"That is highly unlikely."

"But not completely?" Kirk snickered, and the tension began to ease from his frame.

"There is a .0000018% chance that—" Spock pursed his lips as the cadet fell onto his back, his laughter echoing across the quad.

"I fail to see the source of your amusement," Spock said, raising his voice by an increment of 30% to be heard over Kirk's guffaws.

"Sorry," Kirk choked as he sat up again. "I jus- I can't believe that, A. you did the math, and, B. that there's even a 1% chance—"

".0000018%"

"Right. Sure. A point-whatever-one-eight-percent chance that you'd ever reprogram the UT to translate for chickens."

"As I said: highly improbable."

Kirk only grinned and shook his head. Spock examined the alien wrinkling of the cadet's nose with interest. The superior mobility of human features never failed to fascinate him. He had noted that Kirk in particular was more expressive the most, although he was also very skilled at concealing his emotions when he so desired.

Spock titled his head in question when Kirk's grin faded into a pensive expression, his gaze oddly intent.

"Spock," the cadet straightened, and curled his hands over the tops of his knees, "I had a meeting with Pike yesterday." Kirk paused in expectation. Spock obligingly raised his eyebrows. "He told me that if I bust my ass next year he's going to man-up and beg the big wigs for special permission to let me do my deep space training onboard the Enterprise."

Spock took a moment to parse out the meaning of Kirk's statement.

"My training will probably take a little longer if I do that way, but I'd be guaranteed a posting once I officially graduate."

"Yes. My congratulations, Cadet."

Kirk smiled briefly. "Don't congratulate me just yet, Spock. It's far from a done deal."

"The probability that you will fail to meet or even exceed Captain Pike's expectations is so low as to be almost completely negligible. I am also confident that the Admiralty will approve the request; the captain is a difficult man to refuse."

Spock waited for the cadet to reply, but Kirk was silent, gazing at him with such an unfamiliar expression on his face that Spock was unable to divine the meaning behind it. For a moment, he wondered if he had managed to upset him in some way, but then the cadet bowed his head forward slightly, and an almost shy smile curved his lips.

"Yeah," he agreed quietly, but Spock had the distinct impression that the cadet was speaking to himself—yet another human practice that Spock had yet to accustom himself to.

"And…" the cadet drew a deep breath and looked up at him, "once I graduate, you won't be my adviser anymore."

"No, I will not."

Kirk looked away and began to fidget, his knee bouncing.

"Right. I just wanted to, I don't know… remind you of that."

Spock retained his neutral expression with difficulty.

"I hardly need reminding, Cadet," he said finally.

Kirk's eyes snapped back to his own, widened in a manner that signaled surprise. After a brief pause he began to smile.

"Right." Kirk said. "Of course you don't."

"It was illogical of you to think so."

AN: I almost feel as if I should apologize for making this one of my monthly submissions, but May was hectic to the extreme. I felt that the only way I could post was by cheating and polishing up this writing exercise that I did a few months back. I'd been plotting out a wholly unrelated Spock-centric 2009 AT (alternate timeline) and wanted to get a better handle on how to convincingly write narration in Spock's POV. The beginning is a lot rough, and the heavy subtext at the end might make it a bit difficult to understand, but I'm rather proud of this exercise, as it was my first attempt.

Sort of beta-ed by St. Spockaholic, months and months ago.