Title: My Type

Author: Farfalla the Butterfly-Kitten

Pairing: Kirk/Spock

Rating: G, vignette

Email: blueberrysnail@yahoo.com

Thank you to Hypatia Kosh for the beta-read.

Summary: Spock overhears gossip about the captain that he doesn't quite understand.


My Type
By Farfalla the Butterfly-Kitten
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"Captain, I wonder if I might have a word with you."

"Of course, Mr. Spock. What is it?"

"I have recently overheard a discussion among some of the junior officers in which they used Terran slang in a way I find perplexing."

"What were they saying?"

"It was in reference to you, Captain. The topic was our recent encounter with Charles Evans. I heard them refer to you as a 'chicken-hawk'. I am familiar with the term on Earth, referring to those who send others to war but are too cowardly--'chicken'--to participate in the battles themselves. Since you are foremost a man of peace who resorts to violence only when necessary, and who faces such situations with honest valor, I confess that I fail to see the connection."

"Spock, there are... there are--other meanings for the term 'chicken-hawk'."

"Oh?"

"I suspect they were using it to insinuate that I had... dishonorable designs upon our young supernatural friend, which they were comparing to the way a lazy hawk might easily prey upon tame chickens in a farm."

"Really, Captain? I would not have found such behavior likely for someone of your character, and I believe I know you well enough to offer a qualified opinion."

"You would be correct. However, some of the members of my crew seem to have overactive imaginations regarding my sex life."

"Quite natural, given your popularity and...appearance."

"Let me reassure you, Mr. Spock, that I never harbored such designs--"

"Of course not, Captain."

"--for many reasons, not just the fact of his age being about half mine and his personality bordering on psychopathic."

"Indeed."

"For example, he's not my type. I usually go for the well-built, athletic body--muscled, fit--with men, anyway. Women, I like softer, of course. He was too scrawny. Barely knew how to handle himself in the gym."

"I see."

"What's wrong?"

"Wrong, Captain?"

"I trust you don't think I'm about to let my romantic decisions be led by physical impulse, Mr. Spock, I would have hoped you'd see me as more cerebral than that."

"Of course, Captain."

"There are many things that are more important to me than looks. Intellect, the--companionship of a good conversation... compatible personalities.... and someone who asks questions and always loves to learn new things. Would you care to join me for a picnic dinner in the garden tonight, my tall, thin, wiry, inquisitive friend?"

"I--Thank you, Ca--Thank you, Jim. I would be very pleased to accompany you."


END