Star Trek

child.

Kirk took a deep breath. "Mr. Spock, may I…"

"Spock."

"Okay. Spock, tell me, why are you staring at me? Is there something on my face?"

absolutely not.He has looked at the shiny glass dish many times.

"No, your instruments are all normal."

"That……"

He is waiting for an answer.He took it for granted that Spock would give him an explanation, reasonable or not.He just needed an excuse to convince himself to ignore the butterflies flying in his stomach.

"Maybe it's just your appearance that pleases my eyes," Spock said quietly.

Kirk's eyes widened. "Are you kidding me?"

"Whether I'm joking or not," Spock said lightly, as if admitting he was joking, "depends on how you perceive…Jim."

Kirk shuddered at the unexpected single name call.Obviously many people have called him by this name, calling him Jim in a more intimate and even sweeter way and tone than Spock is at the moment, but Kirk has never felt like this, the way he calls him and his response are so natural, as if It is an innate ability that quietly matches a certain sharp outline of his shattered memory, seamlessly, without leaving any gaps.

The fork in his hand fell to the plate with a clang, splashing delicious gravy on his hand, and Spock took in all of his awkward expressions, handing the tissue over and stuffing it into his hand without haste.

then.

Spock's fingers slid across his palm.Light and fast, it flies by in an instant, like the wings of a butterfly.But the temperature that belongs to another person is firmly imprinted.

Kirk looked up sharply at the instigator.

He remembered the touch.

exist……

Where.

36. 【Spirk/Chulu】Lonely Festival

At the end of April, there was an art exhibition in the Lingney George Museum. Kirk didn't know whether it was painting, sculpture or photography. He only knew that Sulu had been looking forward to it for a long time, and he had even been gearing up to grab tickets since early March.On the night when the ticket was successfully issued, he even held Kirk and opened a bottle of wine to celebrate; it was the first time Kirk had tasted the taste of Japanese sake, clear and soft, full of bitterness.The two of them tasted decent alcohol, but their capacity for alcohol was average, and after a few sips, a vague drunkenness rose from the soles of their feet.When he was slightly drunk, Kirk looked at Sulu, and thought of the little Russian who quenched his thirst with vodka as a drink, and felt that the co-resident had a long way to go.

However, when the time came, Sulu didn't go again.

Kirk held on to the ticket he had forced to hand over, and was really at a loss: "Didn't you not sleep well because you were looking forward to it?"

"I have something to do, I can't go." Sulu didn't look at him, his eyes drifted suspiciously, "This ticket is so expensive and hard to get, I don't want to waste it."

"Sell it off."

"Not so good." The Asian youth pursed his lips, "I should repay you for taking me in."

Kirk felt that something was wrong, but he couldn't find a reason to shirk it. He lowered his head and read the information on the ticket, and found something strange: "Two-person ticket? Who is the other one for?"

Sulu still hesitated: "Pasha took it to deal with it, I don't know." The young man looked at him with dark eyes, "Will you go?"

The tone was almost begging, and Kirk thought about it, but going to an art exhibition is not going to the front line, after all, it is Sulu's wish.While subtle, it's not entirely unreasonable.He nodded: "Should."

Sulu breathed a sigh of relief, patted him on the shoulder as if he had completed some major revolutionary task, and left. Kirk looked at the ticket over and over, but couldn't figure it out.April Fool's Day has passed long ago, and Sulu's expectations for the past two months have been clearly seen in his eyes, so there should be no fraud.

But he still had a bad feeling.

He couldn't tell what kind of premonition it was, it fell heavily down his throat, making him feel that there was a ball of warm cotton there, he couldn't swallow it, it couldn't spit it out, it was stuffed into his stomach, the scorching fire couldn't be soothed .The reason why a premonition is a premonition is always because it is unpredictable and unspeakable. Although he can't judge whether it is good or bad, he has to put on a layer of vigilance and wait carefully for all possible events.

The reason why he was tense was the same, but his hunch was always accurate.

When he was standing under the oil painting of roses with a backpack on his shoulders and full of student spirit, he turned his head and saw Spock's deep eyes looking at him quietly, he was not surprised.

... His hunch was really accurate.

The rose in the drawing looked surprisingly familiar, and Kirk compared it several times to make sure it was exactly the same rose engraved on his pendant coin.He doesn't know if it's a coincidence or something else, but this isn't the time to think about it; Spock leans in beside him and greets him softly, "Mr. Kirk."

This time it was Mr. Kirk again. Kirk could still remember the odd shudder when Spock called his name at their family dinner a few days earlier, and it was easier to call him distant.He stuffed the necklace pendant he had taken out back into his clothes again, erased the traces of contemplation and replaced it with a smiling face: "Mr. Spock. What a coincidence, you came to see too..." The name of the exhibition was written in black and white on the ticket stub, but the ticket Stuffed at the bottom, "——Painting Exhibition."

"Obviously." Spock looked knowing and didn't expose him.

Spock was wearing a black instructor's uniform the first time we met, dark formal attire the second time, and casual today.He didn't use hairspray, and his jet-black hair was fluffy and soft. Although it was still a ridiculous pot hairstyle, the jacket and Martin boots that should not match the whole person gave him the taste of a calm British gentleman.

Kirk stared at him, thinking.He did sneer at Spock's rigidity when he comforted Sulu, but he had to admit that he was actually quite a... handsome man.He was tall and thin, but he was not weak and weak, and there was a ready-to-go strength hidden under the close-fitting clothing.If all the external factors such as personality relationship were excluded, he would be willing to have a fight with such a guy, really.He has always believed that the more seemingly ascetic and incomprehensible people are, the more surprises they can bring.

Or it could just be that he hasn't slept with anyone in too long.

Kirk pulls himself out of the mess of thoughts that Spock is still waiting for him, tilting his head slightly, seeing that this posture will definitely follow him for the entire exhibition.As someone whose daily conversations are written, Spock doesn't hide his desires very well, or maybe he doesn't bother to hide them at all. Kirk unilaterally presumed that the guy might be wooing him—other than that he really couldn't think of a good reason for Spock's weird attention to himself.It's not like he hasn't seen this kind of forcible strike-up before. It's always a good feeling to be admired, and he's happy to accept it.

It was a Trojan horse.Huge oil paintings always give people a sense of awe, the extravagance and waste of color, the magnificence of Baroque, and the flamboyance of Rococo. Kirk tilted his neck and looked at it. "Giovanni Battista Tiepolo?"

Spock: "Copy. The real one is in London."

Kirk smiled: "It's not surprising. The British are always reluctant to part with these things." He pushed up his black-rimmed glasses and carefully read the explanation below, "Strictly speaking, it was a copy, in 18...47 years."

"It's also a kind of copy."

"Italian painters, whose works were preserved in England, were eventually sent to the United States for exhibition," he said. "It's always something ancient. But I still like the story of Troy. This one is good."

"There are many paintings on the theme of Troy."

"Hmm. Domenech Giovanni?"

"indeed."

"The Iliad?"

"The Philoctetes."

"Achilles?"

"Son of Thetis and Peleus. An uncreative question."

Kirk narrowed his eyes. "Do you always hit your students like this in class?"

Spock's tone of reply is almost cheerful: "That depends on the qualifications of my students and the value of their questions."

Kirk cleared his throat. "'Because we're doomed'—"

"...'All things are better'." Spock said the second half of the sentence with him effortlessly, watching his brown eyes play with a faint smile.

Kirk couldn't help curling his lips, surprised that Spock could keep up with all his thoughts.He used to think that the two of them would not have a common language at all, but he did not expect that they would unexpectedly coincide in terms of art.

Out of the corner of the eye, I caught a glimpse of a black girl, who was out of time but naturally thought of another person, and pretended to ask casually, "Isn't uhura your girlfriend?"

"You have known uhura students." A declarative sentence. Spock wasn't surprised by his sudden change of subject, "She's a very competent friend, and personally attractive, but not my partner."

"I didn't expect you to be single." Kirk gave him a quick glance from head to toe, "I thought you didn't lack for that."

"Should I take that as a compliment?" Spock raised an eyebrow. "I don't lack."

"Huh. You're pretty pompous."

"I bet