Much Ado About Vulcan (A Spock Love Story) - COMPLETE

Lunchtime with a Vulcan

Spock walked into the communal Staff Room holding his salad in one hand and a pile of unmarked papers in the other. He nudged the door open with his hip and made a direct line to the first empty table that he saw, perching on a wooden chair, and placing the stack of papers in front of him. Usually he ate in his own office, he much preferred to be alone than in the company of others, but every Tuesday, he made an effort to eat in the Communal Staff area. He did this to improve his relationships with his co-workers, an essential factor in a successful working environment.

Today though, he wanted nothing more than to not be there. He had a massive pile of marking to be doing, despite this only being the second day of the New Year. When taking on this job, Spock had had no worries about keeping up with the workload, but he was finding it increasingly more difficult to get everything done in time. It didn't help that his subject, advanced mathematics, had been added that year to be an elective for the fifth year medical students. The last thing that he needed was even more student's assignments to mark.

He let out a small sigh, took a bite of his salad and took out his red pen, picking up the first paper in the pile.

Might as well get it over with, he thought to himself as he began marking.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

What was it with first years and an inability to factorise equations? He had only just started marking the pile of assignments, and already felt exasperated.

"Welcome back, pointy,"

Spock knew the Southern drawl, and closed his eyes in annoyance for a millisecond, before dragging his eyes away from his marking to look at Dr. Leonard McCoy. The man's eyes were twinkling in mischief, a look that Spock had come to fear over the years. He was not ashamed to say that he and Dr McCoy had never been close. The good doctor was far too emotive for Spock's liking, he lacked a control over his emotions that most Vulcans had learned by their first birthday. The man was prone to sudden outbursts of anger or annoyance, totally inappropriate and unacceptable in the workplace.

"Good afternoon, Doctor," Spock replied with neutrality, refusing to be made emotive by this man, "I trust you had a good summer?"

Leonard replied with a noncommittal grunt, taking a long swig from a bottle that Spock sincerely hoped contained water, but he wouldn't put it past the doctor to be drinking on the job.

"Got into a fight with my wife," he said, rubbing his lightly stubbled jaw with one hand, "I always seem to be doing that nowadays."

Spock didn't know how to answer such a personal remark, so remained silent, and continued to mark his papers, the red pen gliding smoothly along the pristine white paper. Marking, wrong, wrong, wrong.

Leonard snorted, and Spock glanced up at the unexpected noise. Dr. McCoy raised his hand in mock-surrender.

"Sorry pointy," he chuckled to himself, and Spock resisted the very un-Vulcan urge to punch him directly in the nose at the derogatory nickname, "But you look like pummelled shit, and it's only the second day back."

He gestured to the pile of papers sat in front of the Vulcan.

"Marking getting to you, huh?" he asked.

"It's nothing that I can't handle." replied Spock in a neutral tone, already disinterested with the conversation. Really, he was glad that he only had to interact with the staff once a week. Anything more, and he didn't think he could face it.

The doctor merely 'hmm'ed conspiratorially, and rooted around in his large over-the-shoulder bag, before pulling out a thick sandwich. Spock masterfully concealed an irritated sigh, it appeared that the doctor was planning on staying for a while.