Hellooooo, Star Trek fandom! This is my first foray into your domain and I am tickled pink to be here! Thanks for hitting up this fic. I hope you find it to your liking. Also, for those of you who are watching me for my How to Train Your Dragon stuff, I am still working on stuff for it. I've got a couple ideas but the main one kind of had its vibe killed by the s1 finale (not in a bad way, believe me, I loved it). But anyway! Glad you all could make it here!

Disclaimer: Bro, let me tell you, if I owned this franchise, we would already have a Starfleet Academy churning out cadets.

The funny thing about captaining a renowned spacecraft is that when he wasn't getting shot at by Klingons or zipping out of the gravitational pulls of black holes, Jim Kirk found the whole business to be rather dull. Sure, he was in charge. He could give orders and his crew would have to follow them. But the times when the Enterprise simply drifted aimlessly through the endless black, Jim found his interest in the wonders of space travel severely depleted.

He wouldn't give up his position or lifestyle for any amount of earthbound fun, but Jim was a live wire by nature. He thrived on excitement. He felt most alive when pumped full of adrenalin and running for his life. And to be frank, sitting for hours in that metal command chair sometimes made his butt numb. So Jim, ever the innovator, made his own fun.

His entertainment ranged from very obvious shenanigans to small but outrageously effective pranks that could never be successfully linked to any particular culprit. His most favorite stunt to date was sneaking into sickbay and rearranging all of Bones' tools. The bellows of rage could be heard all the way on the bridge. Bones didn't speak to Jim for a week, but Jim assumed going into the prank that his friend would know who had sabotaged sickbay. Bones got Jim back in the way he knew would work best: being extra violent with the hyposprays. Consequentially, the captain decided to seriously consider marking Bones off his list of potential playthings.

Jim's more immature escapades were, fortunately, not terribly frequent. He was usually very good about sticking it out on the bridge through the more boring times, but he was never inactive. He passed the time by learning as much as he could about his friends without them knowing or him asking.

Chekov's accent frequently clashed with the computer's demand of the precision pronunciation of codes. Jim noticed that over time no password ever required the letter V be said, and Chekov almost always wore the slightest of secret smirks when verifying his status.

Uhura practiced languages in her down time. She never spoke aloud, but mouthed the words. Jim noticed that she had a habit of tapping her index finger to the syllables. Eventually he was able to figure out what language she was working on just by the rhythm of her finger.

Sulu had a thing for keeping a pen or stylus on him at all times. At first Jim couldn't work out why; it wasn't necessary for his job. It only dawned on Jim after sitting in on a few of Sulu's fencing practice sessions. Sulu was good with his hands. He liked to spin any reasonably sized stick in his fingers and could do incredible tricks while focusing on two other tasks. Jim supposed it reminded him of his blade.

And then there was his First Officer. Jim couldn't help feeling smug whenever he thought of how far he'd come in deciphering Spock's habits and quirks. It hadn't been easy. At first, Jim was completely sold on the idea that Vulcans were arguably the most stoic beings in the universe. Everything changed when he realized-truly realized-that Spock was only half Vulcan. Despite knowing this fact from the beginning, it changed Jim's entire outlook on his best friend. He'd been paying too much mind to Spock's Vulcan heritage. It was only logical that he change his plan of attack if he wanted to pry without prying.

Once Jim entertained the notion that Spock was not in fact an emotionless machine, it was a whole new world. Almost immediately Jim noticed that Spock did not constantly keep a perfectly neutral expression. Well, okay, maybe he did, but he had little tics that alerted the well-trained eye to when he was experiencing an upsurge of emotion. Jim called these tics deviations, because they diverged from his original view of Spock.

Perhaps his favorite deviation was irritation. This was probably because Jim was so proficient in eliciting that response. The captain had discovered that the best and most fun way to annoy his First Officer was to initiate impromptu bridge parties. The festivities rarely got out of hand, but Spock was nothing if not a being of logic and order, and he found the loud music and dancing a waste of time and even counterproductive. Fortunately for Jim, the rest of his crew always received the parties with excellent spirits.

During this particular celebration of life in general, Jim noted the emerging deviation as he spun round and round in his chair. "Is there a problem, Commander?" he asked, grinning.

"I infer by your tone that you're already aware of my opinion of the proceedings," Spock replied. His tone was almost as level as ever, but Jim didn't miss how the Vulcan's lips pursed slightly and how his eyes narrowed by half degrees.

"Aw, don't be like that! Sometimes we need a minute to let loose! Y'know, for morale and stuff."

"I was not aware our morale was suffering."

"Okay, you got me. Then these lovely lads and lasses deserve a reward for all their hard work!" Jim raised his voice jovially and everyone within earshot lifted their cups in agreeance and thanks.

Spock heaved a sigh, which for him consisted of exhaling slowly through his nose. "If you say so, Captain."

Jim rose to face his friend. "You, sir, need to learn how to have fun."

"The fact that my definition of fun differs from yours does not mean that my definition lacks merit."

Jim wrinkled his nose. "There is nothing I'd like more than to chop up your impeccable sentence structures like Sulu dices Klingons."

The deviation changed suddenly, and immediately it was Jim who was annoyed-Spock had that obnoxious, self satisfied, feather-light smirk. That smirk. Jim had bad memories of it. The expression rarely left Spock's face for the duration of their first encounter. It boiled Jim's blood to the point that he wished even half-Vulcans could completely smother their emotions. Still, the change signaled a shift in Spock's mood. He was amused, and therefore much more susceptible to cajoling.

"Well?" Jim prompted. "Aren't you going to apologize for annoying your captain?"

Spock simply blinked. The silence said more than his glittering eyes. Jim cackled and clapped Spock on the shoulder. "At least let me get you a drink?" he begged.

"I will allow it," Spock relented.

Some of the more coherent crew cheersed when Jim thrust the silver cup into Spock's hand. "Shall we have a toast, Commander?" Jim sang.

"To what, Captain?"

"Ah, to everything! To space! To the lovely lady Enterprise! To a magnificent crew! To us!"

Spock touched his cup with Jim's and drank to all that Jim suggested. Jim realized then that he had inadvertently discovered another of Spock's quirks. Give Spock a reason to wear that infuriating little smirk of a deviation, and he was butter in a hot pan. Jim couldn't wait to exploit this new knowledge in the very near future.