(since the fight between them on vulcan, he has decided to entertain only one regret: spock had been publicly humiliated before family, friends, and strangers. asking his first officer to accompany him closely for the remainder of their duty shift—"mind the store" were his words, he remembers, because no detail about that day could ever be forgotten—was all he could do after to make him feel as welcome as he's always been.
his grip on him tightens. he doesn't consider its possessiveness.)
You have a very diverse family. (it's a safe statement because it's true. a vulcan father, a human mother, a vulcan child, and a half-human child. he can't imagine what their nightly dinners must have been like.) I'm sorry you didn't get to spend more time with him... rebelliousness isn't common in Vulcans, I've gathered. Did your parents think his behaviour would rub off on you?
My mother and father were prepossessed with the idea that Sam's and my friends would become "bad influences" on us. Perhaps that overbearingness is a universal constant.
Or perhaps they were truly bad influences. Though logically it is altogether possible that your parents allowed their affection for you to make them overly concerned, I find it... preferable to assume their judgement was accurate.
[ Wherever you are right now, George and Winona, you have someone playing devil's advocate for your instincts on Iowan teens. ]
As for Sybok, it was possible. Best not to risk it when our standing in society was already so– [ Here he cuts himself short, appearing uncharacteristically indecisive over his word choice. Again, as before, he looks upward for his answer. Seemingly, he finds it. ]
–observed. More so every year, and so Sybok was merely one more chapter my father tried to forget.
In Sam's case, they were right. (he sighs, nostalgia in his tone.
what spock finds preferable is something he has to agree with. his parents loved them and, while occasionally that sentiment got lost in translation in the seemingly insurmountable space between job and family, he's thankful they worried. and he misses them, misses sam, misses the farm.
grateful, his fingers sink into the fabric of spock's clothing. if spock hadn't arrived on noctium with him, what would've he done with himself? who would he have been spending his time with and in what capacity? would he have thrived or barely survived?)
... Ambassador Sarek has a very un-Vulcan way about him. (it comes out before he can prevent it, tongue looser tonight than it's been in some time. his eyes cast down and away to meet the lingering stares of the locals.) I'm sorry if that's offensive to you or to your family. I can't understand it and, while I'd strive to, I don't think I would ever agree with his parenting.
Not that– ("not that i can talk"? isn't that a bit too private?) Well, my impressions hardly matter. I would like to meet your brother someday, however. Is he still on Vulcan? What does he do for work?
[ Initially talking about his mother's gossiping habits, while technically shameful on Vulcan, had brought him some sense of inebriated amusement. Even speaking about Sybok allows for pleasant memories to resurface that he had kept carefully siloed. Now, however... there is – what is for all intents and purposes, at least on his home planet – an insult paid to his father which causes him to free a derisive snort and then immediately judge himself for doing so.
Truly his emotions are out of control right now, and his renewed realization of this has it growing worse. ]
Sybok is... I do not know where Sybok is. I do not anticipate that I will ever see him again. [ Which is truthful, and conveyed calmly, but there is a new deeper furrow to his brow as he suddenly stops them both in their tracks, gripping at Kirk's shoulder with a tight hold as he turns to fully face him. ]
(the snort very nearly bowls him over. it takes a second for him to realize spock isn't choking on something and is, in fact, expelling his feelings about his father out of his nose. apropos, and about the level of respect deserved.
his delight at the snort, however, is quick to fade in the wake of the new pace and mood. spock's close proximity to his face doesn't help matters, having to force his eyes away from parted bow-shaped lips to the bag of groceries between them in a sudden fit of apprehension. this incident is happening too soon after his confession and it puts him on edge. he doesn't want the attention, yet it's all he's ever wanted.
get a hold of yourself. spock needs you.)
Yeah. Of course, we can.
(kirk makes a genuine attempt to regain his footing and meet spock's gaze, successful. he doesn't want to become a man who'd put his own pining before his concern for his best friend. it's not only clear that the topic has wounded some part of him, he's unstable, emotionally compromised, and it's his duty to help him. an open expression won't frighten him, not after all they've been through.)
Want to know something? I've always been envious of your talent with music. Lyre, piano, singing, and all the rest... I've learned a lot over the years and I've studied many subjects but never once did I focus on an instrument. It's a little embarrassing to admit.
There's something about being an observer and a listener that I've always enjoyed. When you play, I find it relaxing. I'd like to be able to evoke that feeling in others. It'd be useful at times like these.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
(since the fight between them on vulcan, he has decided to entertain only one regret: spock had been publicly humiliated before family, friends, and strangers. asking his first officer to accompany him closely for the remainder of their duty shift—"mind the store" were his words, he remembers, because no detail about that day could ever be forgotten—was all he could do after to make him feel as welcome as he's always been.
his grip on him tightens. he doesn't consider its possessiveness.)
You have a very diverse family. (it's a safe statement because it's true. a vulcan father, a human mother, a vulcan child, and a half-human child. he can't imagine what their nightly dinners must have been like.) I'm sorry you didn't get to spend more time with him... rebelliousness isn't common in Vulcans, I've gathered. Did your parents think his behaviour would rub off on you?
My mother and father were prepossessed with the idea that Sam's and my friends would become "bad influences" on us. Perhaps that overbearingness is a universal constant.
no subject
[ Wherever you are right now, George and Winona, you have someone playing devil's advocate for your instincts on Iowan teens. ]
As for Sybok, it was possible. Best not to risk it when our standing in society was already so– [ Here he cuts himself short, appearing uncharacteristically indecisive over his word choice. Again, as before, he looks upward for his answer. Seemingly, he finds it. ]
–observed. More so every year, and so Sybok was merely one more chapter my father tried to forget.
no subject
what spock finds preferable is something he has to agree with. his parents loved them and, while occasionally that sentiment got lost in translation in the seemingly insurmountable space between job and family, he's thankful they worried. and he misses them, misses sam, misses the farm.
grateful, his fingers sink into the fabric of spock's clothing. if spock hadn't arrived on noctium with him, what would've he done with himself? who would he have been spending his time with and in what capacity? would he have thrived or barely survived?)
... Ambassador Sarek has a very un-Vulcan way about him. (it comes out before he can prevent it, tongue looser tonight than it's been in some time. his eyes cast down and away to meet the lingering stares of the locals.) I'm sorry if that's offensive to you or to your family. I can't understand it and, while I'd strive to, I don't think I would ever agree with his parenting.
Not that– ("not that i can talk"? isn't that a bit too private?) Well, my impressions hardly matter. I would like to meet your brother someday, however. Is he still on Vulcan? What does he do for work?
no subject
Truly his emotions are out of control right now, and his renewed realization of this has it growing worse. ]
Sybok is... I do not know where Sybok is. I do not anticipate that I will ever see him again. [ Which is truthful, and conveyed calmly, but there is a new deeper furrow to his brow as he suddenly stops them both in their tracks, gripping at Kirk's shoulder with a tight hold as he turns to fully face him. ]
Jim. Let's speak of something else.
no subject
his delight at the snort, however, is quick to fade in the wake of the new pace and mood. spock's close proximity to his face doesn't help matters, having to force his eyes away from parted bow-shaped lips to the bag of groceries between them in a sudden fit of apprehension. this incident is happening too soon after his confession and it puts him on edge. he doesn't want the attention, yet it's all he's ever wanted.
get a hold of yourself. spock needs you.)
Yeah. Of course, we can.
(kirk makes a genuine attempt to regain his footing and meet spock's gaze, successful. he doesn't want to become a man who'd put his own pining before his concern for his best friend. it's not only clear that the topic has wounded some part of him, he's unstable, emotionally compromised, and it's his duty to help him. an open expression won't frighten him, not after all they've been through.)
Want to know something? I've always been envious of your talent with music. Lyre, piano, singing, and all the rest... I've learned a lot over the years and I've studied many subjects but never once did I focus on an instrument. It's a little embarrassing to admit.
There's something about being an observer and a listener that I've always enjoyed. When you play, I find it relaxing. I'd like to be able to evoke that feeling in others. It'd be useful at times like these.