Timing Is Everything

A/N: Okay, so, this is my first post EVER!! BRING ON THE CONFETTI!!! Anyway, this is just a random oneshot and because of, well, the whole subject really, I feel I should explain how the idea even got into my head. So I was explaining the concept of 'canon' to my younger sister. So I said, "For example, Spock saying, 'yo, fool, give me your lunch money' would be totally un-canon." My sister, who is as of yet unfamiliar with the original series, loves the Reboot movie, and knows enough about Star Trek to know how utterly ridiculous it would be for Spock to say that. So, of course, she promptly began rolling on the floor laughing. And, as luck would have it, my best friend, writing partner and soul sister called at just that moment. She heard my sister laughing in the background, and naturally asked what the heck was going on. I explained, and she gasped and said, 'omigod, you should totally write a fic where Spock says that!' And so the plot bunnies multiplied and this…thing…was born.

I am working on a multi-chapter K/S fic and I pinky-swear the first chapter will be up soon! Please check it out! This has hints of K/S but nothing explicit. Don't like, don't read.

Disclaimer: If I owned, do you think I'd be living in a place where my bathtub doesn't even get hot water in the winter?

On with the show!

Spock stood very still as Jim knelt in front of him. Giving the waistband one final tug, he nodded decisively and stood. Reaching up, he pulled something over Spock's perfect black hair. Finished, the young captain stepped back to admire his handiwork, and could not stop a devilish grin from spreading across his face. Jim, he told himself. You are a genius.

"Jim. I do not understand," the Vulcan said, quirking an eyebrow in a way Jim recognized as skeptical. "What is the function of such cumbersome attire?"

Jim rolled his eyes, and placed his hands on his hips, still grinning sinfully. "Spock," he said, clapping the First Officer on the shoulder. "Just go with it."

"It is completely impractical and undignified," Spock insisted.

Jim raised his eyes dramatically to the ceiling, though the expression of mirth made it clear that he was more amused than exasperated. "Spock, this is something all humans know," he explained.

"I am Vulcan," Spock said stiffly. "As such, I see no reason why I should be forced into such apparel, and furthermore—"

By now, Jim knew better than to let Spock continue unless he wanted to be treated to a long litany of logically thought-out arguments and counterarguments to the arguments Jim could make in response to Spock's original argument….the man was the stuff of debate team legends and nightmares.

"You asked me to teach you some things about human behavior," Jim pointed out, effectively cutting off the Science Officer mid-tirade. He got a sort of sadistic pleasure from the fact that he was the only one who could stop Spock in the middle of rant. (Well, a Vulcan-style rant anyway. Which basically consisted of them handing you your ass with more logical arguments and facts than they strictly needed to prove their point.) Even Uhura hadn't managed it, during the brief period in which she and Spock had dated. Jim felt a little smug at the thought that he had accomplished something in relation to Spock that even Spock's romantic partner had not achieved.

"This," Jim gestured to the clothes, "Is something all humans reference eventually. They can do it through speech or style of dress, but sooner or later, all humans refer to this."

"I still do not—" Spock began.

"And," Jim continued, a little louder but otherwise giving no indication that his first officer had spoken. "You know what they say; the best way of learning is doing!"

"What kind of cultural significance do these garments hold?" Spock inquired, raising his eyebrows as he examined himself in the full length mirror on the bathroom door. Jim came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. Blue eyes danced as they met Spock's brown ones in the mirror.

"Spock," said Jim seriously. "This is lesson number one in How to be Gangsta."

Spock turned to look at Jim's real face, eyebrows pulling together. "Gangster? You wish me to learn how to be a member of criminal organization of the type often romanticized in popular culture and media?"

Jim smirked. "No, no." He shook his head. "But there are certain styles of clothing and speech, etc, that characterized early 21st gang members, and which, as I said, everybody references." He put his hands on his hips. "Clothes had to be first," he added, appraising Spock.

Somehow—gods only knew—Jim had managed to trick/cajole/force/beg Spock into a black t-shirt several sizes too large, thick silver chains around his neck. The Vulcan was also sporting baggy black jeans that hung off his waist, big clunky black sneakers, and a floppy black cap tilted to one side so that the brim entirely covered one pointed ear. Combined with his stiff-as-a-board posture and expression of subtle disapproval, it was a wonder Jim hadn't spontaneously combusted from the absolute, utter absurdity of it all.

The door slid open and they both turned.

"Captain, I was wondering if—" Uhura stopped dead, staring at Spock.

"Yes, lieutenant?" Jim prompted. She did not respond, apparently completely distracted by the sight of Spock dressed like a 21st century gangster. Jim looked from Uhura to Spock with mild interest. Her reaction was…fascinating. Spock arched an eyebrow and Uhura abruptly turned on her heel and marched out, looking totally thrown for a loop.

Jim looked after her, looked back at Spock, shrugged and moved on. "Okay, Spock, you need to learn gangsta lingo next. Try this: Yo, fool, gimme yo lunch money!"

Spock merely raised a condescending eyebrow. "Come on, just say it."

"There is no logic in that demand, as the Federation no longer uses currency and taking something that would provide another with required sustenance is both arrogant and cruel."

"Spock, just say it, would you? It's a part of your lesson. Think of it as a classic language. Like ancient Greek or French. No one actually uses it as a language anymore, but people still talk that way for fun."

"Fun, Captain?" Spock raised his eyebrow as if to say. 'I'm a Vulcan, you ignoramus. Vulcans don't do fun.'

"Just say it, will you?" Jim demanded.

Spock gave a little conceding nod. "Very well. 'Yo, fool, give me your lunch money," he deadpanned just as the door slid open again and Chekov and Sulu froze in their tracks. They gaped at the commander; Chekov's eyes were wide as dinner plates. For a long moment, in which Jim had trouble not bursting out laughing, there was utter silence. Then the two hurried from the captain's quarters, exclaiming forcefully in an eager jumble of Standard and Russian.

The door closed behind them and Spock turned back to Jim. "It has just occurred to me to inquire why you have such garments in your possession."

Jim only grinned and winked.

"Anyway, try it again, Spock. And try to sound intimidating. That last one was more monotone than my ninth grade science teacher."

Spock gave Jim another look and repeated the phrase, with as little inflection as he had the first time.

Jim scratched at his head. "Okay, so verbal intimidation isn't your thing…but we can try other things…" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"While you ponder that pressing dilemma," Spock said with a hint of sarcasm that few would have caught. But Jim did and threw him a dazzling grin. "I would like to point out that this clothing is illogical in every way, even by human standards. The clothes are far too large and wearing the trousers so low only prevents you from moving at a reasonable pace. The chains are heavy and gaudy with no purpose I can determine and with a high probability of catching on something and causing strangulation. The shoes are poorly made, fit badly and are likely to fall to pieces after a short period of time. The headgear obstructs eyesight. An entirely useless outfit that would be extremely illogical when faced with a situation requiring fast pace, stealth, or inconspicuousness. These garments would be more restrictive than functional."

Jim, who had only been half listening, straightened up, a wicked gleam in his eye that Spock was beginning to realize always came right before an extremely uncomfortable away mission. If Vulcans got uncomfortable, that is.

"I've got it," he announced. Another sign that Spock was coming to associate with danger or discomfort. "Since you stink at verbal intimidation, we'll just go with physical. I mean, I know you can do that to some extent."

Jim smirked at Spock. He knew he was long since forgiven for the Bridge Incident. Though he still treaded carefully around the subject of Spock's mom. Hey, the guy was strong.

"What would you have me do, Captain?" Spock asked tonelessly.

The young captain had to think for a second. "Basically you just need to get in my face," Jim shrugged.

Spock's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "'Get in your face?'" he repeated curiously.

"Yeah, you just—just," Jim gestured helplessly. "Get up in my space. Make me feel claustrophobic. Get close enough with a mean face that I want to back away."

Spock considered that for a moment, and took two long strides forward until he was mere centimeters from Jim, looking down at him with blazing eyes.

Jim swallowed. "Good," he said, a bit breathless due to the proximity of Spock's body and the heat radiating from it. Spock inclined his head. "Now, uh, push me against the wall." He groaned mentally, and prayed that Spock wouldn't notice the second way that could be construed.

Spock forced Jim back until the captain felt his back hit a wall. Spock's arm was across Jim's collarbone, palm firm against one of his shoulders, anchoring the blond to the wall. His other hand was on the wall right beside Jim's head. His body was pressed against Jim's, their eyes still locked together.

After a second of working, Jim cleared his throat. "Now that you've got me against the wall, you have to really intimidate me."

Spock's eyebrows rose quizzically. Jim tried to elaborate. "Okay, well, um…I'm annoying right now right?" The Vulcan gave him a look. "Look, I am, right? I'm irritating the hell out of you, aren't I?"

"Irritation is an emotion. Vulcans do not feel emotions."

Jim's look was deeply unimpressed. "So I'm irritating the hell out you, right?"

Spock cocked an eyebrow and merely said, "Indeed." Jim chuckled.

"So you have to make me stop. You can do it however you want, really, it doesn't matter. The point is to get me to do what you want. Bend me to your will." Jim winced internally and again hoped his First Officer didn't notice the second meaning in his words. "Just whenever you figure out what you wanna—"

Spock lifted his hand from Jim's shoulder and pressed it firmly over Jim's mouth. His skin was always hotter than humans' but it felt even more so against Jim's face. Spock brought his face down so that there was barely an inch between Jim's face and his own. The captain's eyes widened slightly and his heart raced.

"Captain," Spock said firmly in a low, smoldering voice. "Stop talking."

He moved his hand to rest on Jim's cheek and slowly moved his face toward Jim's. Jim's heart stuttered and he couldn't remember how to breathe. Spock's lips were millimeters from his…

The door slid open a third time and McCoy strode in, Scotty half a step behind him. McCoy was talking before the door was fully open. "Jim, I was just givin' Scotty here a physical when Sulu and Chekov burst in, babblin' somethin' about you 'n Spock—" He had caught sight of them. Scotty was mouthing wordlessly.

Jim watched as Scotty's expression morphed from dumbstruck to gleeful and the engineer turned expectantly to the doctor. McCoy's face went from shell-shocked to horrified to pissed.

"Dammit Jim! I didn't need to see that! I'm a surgeon not an eye-doctor—I don't know how to treat my own retinal trauma!" He whirled on his heel and stormed out, cursing Jim and Spock—with something about shuttlecraft attendants who forced people to sit next to idiots who ruined their lives thrown in for good measure. Scotty followed him out, roaring with laughter.

"Well, Bones, that's what you get for not knocking!" Jim called, furious at being interrupted at such a moment, but amused nonetheless at the country doctor's reaction.

McCoy let loose another stream of expletives, before the door slid shut, cutting off all sound from outside.

Jim looked back at Spock anxiously. The Vulcan was wearing what Jim classified as his 'Science Officer' expression. It was the same expression he got when an advanced lifeform captured them, or when he discovered an extremely deadly flower.

"Fascinating…" he murmured.

Jim couldn't help it. He put his head back and laughed until tears streamed down his face.

He threw his arms around the Vulcan's neck and pressed his lips briefly to Spock's. Spock gave him a look of surprise, before leaning down and kissing Jim back.

Timing, Jim thought as they kissed warmly, really is everything.

A/N: Reviews=love. 3 Anyone who reviews get a virtual cookie! Comments, question, anything that bothered you, I just want your feedback! But bear in mind—FLAMING MAKES YOU A MEANIE AND I WILL NOT READ THEM!!

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