Buy Me Some Peanuts and Cracker Jacks

With those who don't give a damn about baseball, I can only sympathize.  I do not resent them.  I am even willing to concede that many of them are physically clean, good to their mothers and in favor of world peace.  But while the game is on, I can't think of anything to say to them.  ~Art Hill

Sulu entered Jim’s office half-way, knowing Jim was vaguely aware of his presence but not focused on it. “Hey Jim.”

“Yeah,” Jim replied, looking up at Sulu with a half-smile.

“I’m going to get Spock. We’ll meet you at the stadium at 11:30.”

“Right,” Jim agreed, glancing down at his watch.

“Do I need to call you so you won’t forget to leave for the stadium?” Sulu asked.

“No,” Jim laughed. “I’ll set the alarm on my watch.”

“That’ll work,” Sulu agreed.

“It usually does,” Jim replied. “Pavel with you?”

“Yeah. I’ll come back for him after I drop off Spock,” Sulu said.

“Take him with you. Spock won’t mind. Then you and Pavel take the rest of the day for yourselves.”

“You sure?” Sulu asked, smiling at Jim.

“Absolutely. I have the Ferrari. I’m going back to the Wiltshire after the game. And I can certainly drive myself in tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Sulu agreed with a nod.

“You need any money?” Jim asked, his primary focus returned to the ledgers spread out all over the top of his mahogany desk.

“Nah. I already took a couple of hundred from your checking account,” Sulu laughed.

“Spend it wisely,” Jim said, smiling at Hikaru’s laughter as it faded away.

Jim studied the tidy rows of numbers, certain that something was off. The balance sheets seemed to be correct, to match up with his expectations. But there was something he couldn’t identify, an anomaly that he couldn’t find.

He was still trying to sort it out when the alarm on his watch alerted him to the time. He gathered the four bound ledgers and extracted the flash drive before locking up and going to the parking garage to enter the Ferrari.

~o0o~

Precisely at 11:00, Spock opened the door to find Hikaru on the other side.

“Hey,” Hikaru greeted him with a smile. He was carrying several totes, the unidentified man next to him holding three long garment bags. “This is Pavel.”

Spock didn’t know who Pavel was but he could tell who Pavel was to Hikaru. And it warmed him deep inside. Spock took a step backward, waving them both in. “Come in.”

Hikaru entered followed by Pavel who looked like delivering clothes to the Beverly Hills Wiltshire was all in a day’s work. And perhaps it was.

“I picked these up for you,” Hikaru explained unnecessarily, heading toward the bedroom. “You’ll find a long sleeve polo and khaki pants in the blue garment bag Pavel is holding.”

“These are appropriate to the baseball game?” Spock asked. He was wearing Jim’s sweatpants and sweatshirt, uncertain of the expectations for his attire.

“It is vhat everyone vill be vearing,” Pavel confirmed.

“You are not,” Spock pointed out, looking over Pavel’s jean and tee-shirt which were in sharp contrast to the black suit he was accustom to Hikaru wearing.

“We aren’t going to the game,” Hikaru explained. “I mean we are going. To take you. But we aren’t staying to watch the game.”

“I see,” Spock said, watching as Pavel took out the shirt and pants Hikaru had mentioned. He also rooted around one of the totes to bring out a stack of white briefs. “Do you work for Jim as well?”

“Part of the time,” Pavel said, holding the clothes. He seemed to be waiting for something but Spock didn’t know exactly what.

“The rest of the time, he’s working on his masters in advanced theoretical astrophysics,” Hikaru said, pointing at the sweats Spock was wearing. “Get out of those. You need to change so we can get to Dodger Stadium.”

Hikaru’s words spurred Spock to action. He pulled off the sweatshirt in exchange for the blue polo before shedding the pants. The briefs and khakis were a perfect fit, not that he was at all surprised. He felt certain that Floyd had ensured that the pants fit as if they had been made specifically for Spock.

“Very nice,” Pavel said in approval. “You have shoes?”

Spock nodded, feeling a little dazed but went to the closet for the topsiders Barry had chosen for him. “These are appropriate?”

“Of course,” Sulu agreed, watching Spock put them on. “Do you want a jacket? The box will be air conditioned. For Human comfort.”

“The box,” Spock repeated.

“The luxury box,” Sulu said with a laugh. “You know – cushy seats. Private wait staff. All the food and drink you want.”

“I… did not realize,” Spock admitted. “I had thought we would be sitting in the stands.”

Hikaru shook his head, smiling at Spock’s confusion. “Yeah. That’s where most people sit. Dr. Pike is not most people.”

“As I have heard. Neither is Mr. Kirk,” Spock said, following the other two men out of the bedroom.

“Did you vant a jacket?” Pavel asked, gesturing back toward the bedroom. “I vill be getting it for you.”

“Is there one among the packages?” Spock asked, looking from Pavel to Hikaru.

“Da. You vait. I vill be a moment only,” Pavel said, returning to the bedroom.

“Was Pavel born in Russia?” Spock asked as he collected the room key. He also slipped some of the credits which Jim had left him into his pocket. It was most unlikely that he would need them but he preferred having them, on a contingency basis.

“He was. He’s an American citizen now.”

“He cannot be old enough to be pursuing his masters degree,” Spock commented.

“He’s 18,” Hikaru confirmed. “He’s on a full-ride scholarship. When he finishes, NASA will sponsor his PhD and post-graduate degrees.”

“This is impressive,” Spock said as Pavel returned with a light cotton jacket in navy blue. “Thank you.”

“Are you finished talking about me, Karu?” Pavel asked affectionately.

“For now,” Sulu said, kissing Pavel lightly on the mouth. “Come on. We need to get to the stadium or Jim will want to know why we’re late.”

~o0o~

It was 11:25 when Sulu pulled the town car up to the curb beneath the sign that said “Private: Clublevel Only.” Spock thought about letting himself out of the backseat when he saw Jim standing on the sidewalk but knew Sulu would take it as a personal affront if he were not allowed to fulfill his responsibilities.

When the door was opened by a smiling Sulu, Spock emerged from the car. He thought he heard a quiet gasp but was certain he had imagined it. “Thank you, Hikaru. I will see you and Pavel again soon?”

“Tomorrow,” Hikaru agreed, nodding to Spock before returning to the car.

Not until Spock was standing next to Jim did Hikaru slowly pull the car into the drive.

“Hey,” Jim said in greeting. His smile was brighter than the sun streaming down on them as they stood on the sidewalk.

“Jim,” Spock replied, his voice nearly a caress. “Did you accomplish your goal?”

“What goal is that?” Jim asked, his voice distant, his expression distracted.

“When you went to the office,” Spock said, the barest hint of amusement in his voice.

Jim could hardly focus on anything but how delicious Spock looked in the new clothes. Jim had never believed in the cliché that clothes made the man. In this case, the Vulcan made the clothes - made them beautiful and perfect and seductive and sexy. And they made Jim want to forcibly remove them from Spock’s body.

“Jim,” Spock said softly.

With much effort, Jim managed to focus on Spock’s eyes, eyes that held far more laughter than Jim had ever believed he would see in a Vulcan. “I want to t-t-tear those clothes off you,” Jim admitted, his voice a husky whisper.

“This is neither the place nor the time,” Spock replied, sounding serious but Jim could see the humor sparkling in his eyes. “Additionally, Floyd would be most displeased.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Jim said, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s go meet Chris and Phil.”

Spock nodded, walking with him into the stadium. No ticket seemed to be required, at least not from Jim. The stadium personnel simply nodded to them, waving Jim and Spock through the turnstile with no fuss. “Have Pavel and Hikaru been together for a long period of time?”

“Mmm…almost two years. Hikaru doesn’t like to admit it because Pavel was only 17 when they started dating. I told him it wasn’t a big deal. He’s only 4 years older than Pavel. It’s not like he was robbing the cradle,” Jim said as he led Spock to the elevator which they took to the top floor.

“In what capacity do you employ Pavel?” Spock asked.

“Mostly keeping Hikaru out of trouble,” Jim laughed. Jim knew that answer didn’t satisfy Spock’s curiosity but it was just too complicated to try and explain. He knew equally well that Spock would not pursue the question, for which Jim was thankful. “The box is this way,” Jim said when they had left the elevator. They went down the relatively empty, very plush corridor which looked like it had been taken out of a bank rather than built into a baseball stadium. The few people they passed all nodded at Jim and were dressed in suits.

Spock watched three walk by, turning to look at them until they disappeared around a bend. “Are they here to watch the game?”

“No, not exactly,” Jim said, nodding at the woman who was walking in the opposite direction. She too was dressed in business attire. “They are team officials.”

“Team officials,” Spock repeated.

“Chris and Phil are in the owner’s box,” Jim said with a shrug as though sitting in the box of the owner of the team was an everyday occurrence. And perhaps for him it was.

“Do they own the Dodgers?” Spock had to ask. He was quite certain they did not but he was not an aficionado of the sport.

“No,” Jim laughed. “He loaned it to them.”

Spock could think of nothing to say in reply to that and did not even try. He could tell Jim was amused by his lack of response and Spock schooled his face to even more careful Vulcan equanimity. That just made Jim laugh again as he opened a door, waving Spock inside.

Spock felt Jim’s eyes on him as he entered the box, disguising his uncertainty as much as he possibly could. Their shoulders brushed as Jim stood next to Spock, those dangerously blue eyes filled with laughter.

“Jim,” Chris said in delight as he turned toward the door. He was a distinguished looking man, all smiles and grey eyes and silver hair. He had an authority about him which Spock knew without a doubt got him whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. Jim had about him the same quality but not with the advantage of Chris’s additional years.

Next to Chris stood a man a few years older, his face one of immense seriousness. Spock knew that had to be the Phil about whom Jim had spoken, the man who loved Chris enough to attend an event in which he had no real interest. Spock thought from the way Phil looked at Chris that there was enough love between them to erase any hardship that might result from either of them doing what the other wanted. Spock felt a wholly unwelcome sense of yearning at seeing the two men who so obviously fit together.

He was distracted from his contemplation when Jim greeted Chris heartily, accepting his hug and returning it in kind. Jim shook hands with Phil, the older man smiling at Jim though it looked vaguely unnatural, as though the doctor had forgotten how that particular set of muscles functioned.

“Chris, Phil, I want you to meet Spock. Spock, Dr. Chris Pike and Dr. Phil Boyce. Two certified geniuses. Also certified grouches,” Jim joked, Chris laughing and Phil nodding once.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Spock said with a faint bow. “Jim has spoken of you frequently. His admiration of you is inspirational.”

Jim looked equally surprised and pleased by Spock’s words, Chris smiling broadly at him.

“It’s good to meet you too,” Chris said. “Especially considering you’re the one who finally convinced Jim that there really is more to life than securitization and emoluments.”

“It’s not all I think about,” Jim protested, brushing the back of his hand against Spock’s. Spock just barely managed to keep the surprise from showing on his face when Jim hooked his little finger around Spock’s, adding a finger-hug for good measure.

“Right. There’s strategy and marketing as well,” Chris agreed.

Phil seemed to be turning over Spock’s words in his head as though he needed to translate it into an language more familiar to him. Chris and Jim were already engaged in business talk, Spock and Phil left to their own devices.

“Spock,” Phil said, trying out the word. “You are a long way from home.”

“My mother is in agreement with your sentiment, sir,” Spock said. “However, this is now my home. Especially so long as Jim is here.”

“You live in Los Angeles?” Phil asked, moving toward the long table next to the wall on their right. It was filled to overflowing with every type of food imaginable and some Spock did not recognize.

“Currently,” Spock said, following Phil when Jim untangled their fingers. Spock regretted the loss of connection but understood.

“Have you been to Jim’s estate in Virginia?” Phil asked.

“Dr. Cranky,” Chris’s voice interrupted to Spock’s relief. “Stop interrogating our guest.”

Spock looked over at Chris and Jim, an expression of conspiracy on both their faces. Phil looked back at them impassively, his eyes locking with Chris’.

“Right you are,” Phil said, selecting several items from the table to put onto his plate. “Apologies. I can be overly nosey.”

“It is inherent to being a scientist,” Spock said, turning his focus to the food available. He filled a plate with those items he thought Jim would like. As Jim had rarely eaten around him, a guess was the best he could do.

“Thank you,” Jim said with a saucy wink as he accepted the plate.

Spock nodded, focusing on Chris. “What would you like, sir?”

“You aren’t a waiter, Spock. Get yourself something to eat and sit,” Chris directed with a laugh.

“If your intention is to wait to avail yourself of the delicacies once Jim stops talking, I fear you will starve,” Spock said, his joke surprising Chris and Phil. Jim looked pleased, for his good fortune in having Spock, and for the impression he was making on the other two men.

“You make a good point,” Chris laughed, following Spock back to the table, Jim holding his plate as he waited. Chris busied himself with choosing his favorites, ignoring Phil when he told him his plate was now filled with nothing but a waiting heart attack.

“Are you still nervous?” Jim whispered, his side pressing into Spock’s.

“Yes. But if you intend to repeat that to anyone I will deny it,” Spock said, leaning momentarily into Jim before straightening.

“Understood,” Jim laughed, following Chris’s instructions to sit next to him, Phil on Chris’ other side. Jim checked Spock’s plate when he sat down, nodding at the quantity and variety present in Spock’s choices.

Not much time elapsed after they sat until an Orion woman in a black and white waitress uniform entered, surveying their plates. “What can I get you to drink?” she asked, her smile bright against her green skin.

“I would like Glenfiddich straight up, Liza,” Phil requested.

“Of course.” she acknowledged. “Dr. Pike?”

“I’ll have a gin and tonic,” Chris decided. “Hendrick's Reserve.”

“We don’t have Hendrick’s Reserve, Doctor,” she responded. “We do have Tanqueray ‘No. 10’.”

“That’s fine,” Chris agreed.

As Phil and Chris were ordering their preferred drinks, Spock leaned closer to Jim in an effort not to be heard by anyone else. “What is customary to drink in this situation?”

Jim understood the question and the broader implications of it. “For a Human, their favorite alcoholic beverages. For a Vulcan, water is the expectation.”

“What will you request?” Spock whispered. To the casual observer, the exchange was ordinary whispering between lovers.

“Pepsi,” Jim said. Spock nodded and straightened, Liza turning her bright eyes on him.

“Dr. Kirk?” she inquired.

Jim could feel the tiny start from Spock. It hadn’t occurred to Jim to tell Spock of his PhD as he rarely considered it himself. “Pepsi. On the rocks,” Jim requested with a wink. That got a laugh from her before she turned to Spock.

“Would you like anything other than water, sir?” she asked politely.

“Thank you, no. Water,” Spock said to her nods.

“We’ll also need some peanuts and popcorn,” Jim told her. “It’s Spock’s first time at a game.”

“Certainly, Dr. Kirk. Anything else?” she asked all four of the men. Determining that she had gotten all of their requests, she left them.

“Is there a program available?” Spock asked Jim.

Jim twisted to look back over the three vacant rows behind them. “Yeah. On the table against the back wall.”

Spock nodded, looking over at the Humans. “Should I gather one for you as well?”

They declined, Chris and Jim already back into their own discussions. Spock went to the table, gathering two programs and bringing them back to his seat, retrieving his plate from where he left it on the handy shelf just in front of them.

Liza soon returned with their drink requests as well as the popcorn and peanuts, assuring them she would be back during the second inning to check on them. As soon as she had left, the Humans stood, facing the enormous American flag in the outfield. Spock also stood at the first strains of the National Anthem. His Vulcan origins excused him from standing but he would never demonstrate that sort of disrespect. He was in their house. He honored their ways.

The game started with little preamble, Spock making very tidy notes on the appropriate page in the program. At the start of the second inning, he leaned closer to the window to follow the flight of a well-hit ball, noticing that Dr. Boyce looked utterly disinterested. Jim had told Spock that the older man was only there because Dr. Pike had requested that he come. And with Jim and Chris engaged in their closed conversation, Dr. Boyce was left with little to occupy him other than gazing blindly out over the plush green grass.

Though it wasn’t his usual inclination, being in his profession had taught Spock the art of making conversation with anyone, most especially strangers. Going to the food table as a cover, Spock then returned to their row, sitting on the side opposite of where he had been, feeling Dr. Boyce’s eyes on him.

“Jim confided that baseball is not one of your primary interests,” Spock said in a low voice.

Dr. Boyce shrugged. “I don’t really mind. Nor do I especially care about the game.”

“I have never before attended a game. It has its intrinsic fascinations.”

Dr. Boyce glanced down at the program resting on Spock’s knees, his hand hovering above it. “May I?”

“Certainly,” Spock agreed, handing him the program.

“You’ve never been to a baseball game before. But you know how to accurately keep score?”

“There is an endless supply of explanations available on the internet,” Spock said.

“Of course,” Phil said, studying the scoring Spock had recorded for the first inning and the beginning of the second. “This is a strike-out?” Phil asked, pointing at one of the symbols.

“It is,” Spock agreed, explaining the other symbols used to keep track of all that was happening during the game. He had heard that there were those who believed baseball was a sport in which ‘nothing happened’ but he found the strategy and the numerical precision of the game intriguing. As he shared his observations with Dr. Boyce, the older man began to relax and follow the action on the field with a new interest.

Mid-way through the sixth inning, Chris glanced over at Phil, surprised to see him absorbed in discussing baseball with Spock. He found it nearly miraculous.

“Phil,” Chris said, a light hand on his arm.

“Yeah?” Phil responded, looking over at Chris as though he had forgotten he was sitting right next to him.

“It’s 2:45. We need to go,” Chris said.

“Really?” Phil asked, pulling up his sleeve to check his watch. “I had no idea.”

“Usually you’re begging me to leave by now,” Chris laughed.

“I have a whole new respect for the game,” Phil told him, smiling at Spock. “Thank you.”

“No thanks are necessary, sir,” Spock responded, standing when the other two men did.

“So we’ll see you tomorrow night,” Chris was saying as they all went toward the door to the box.

“We will?” Phil asked, a real frown of confusion on his face.

Chris laughed, patting Phil on the back. “I invited Jim and Spock over for dinner. I told you that.”

“You did not,” Phil said.

“During the fifth inning. You said okay,” Chris said, shaking his head.

“Did you hear him?” Phil asked Spock, Jim wisely staying out of it.

“I do not recall,” Spock said which was so clearly a lie. But it kept him out of trouble so Jim thought it was a really smart answer to give.

Chris laughed, opening the door. “It’s not like you have anywhere else to be, Dr. Cranky.”

“Fine. But you are cooking,” Phil told him sternly.

“Of course,” Chris said, focusing on Jim and Spock. “He’s really quite excited about you coming over.”

“I can tell,” Jim laughed, making Phil grumble and Chris wink at them. “6:00 o’clock, right Phil?”

“As long as it’s P.M., that’s fine,” Phil agreed, leaving the box, certain Chris would follow.

When they had left, Jim turned to Spock, kissing him lightly on the cheek. Spock was certain that was not his original intent, Jim’s aim changing at the last second. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Spock asked, staring at Jim’s lips and wishing they were on his. His mouth or his body or….

“For making Phil way less miserable. I’m pretty sure this is the first time he’s ever enjoyed a baseball game.”

“It was only his lack of understanding that interfered with his enjoyment,” Spock said, still distracted by Jim’s mouth.

“I’m sure it was,” Jim said, glancing around the box. “I’m not interested in staying for the rest of the game. Are you?”

“I am only interested in being where you are,” Spock said honestly. “Preferably naked.”

Jim laughed at that, shaking his head. “I don’t really want to show up on ESPN having sex with you.”

“Then perhaps we should return to the hotel,” Spock suggested.

“Agreed,” Jim said, leading him out of the box.

“Do you need to call Hikaru?” Spock asked, his hand intentionally brushing the back of Jim’s.

“I have the Ferrari,” Jim said as they descended in the elevator.

“Does it belong to you?” Spock asked in curiosity.

“No. It’s a friend’s. He doesn’t really drive it. So he lets me use it whenever I’m in town.”

“Indeed,” Spock said. “What would your friend say if you were to allow someone else to drive it?”

“Like Chris?” Jim asked with a laugh.

“As an example,” Spock said.

“He’d say whatever. He knows I’ll have it fixed if necessary. Why? Do you know someone who would be interested in driving it?” Jim asked, taking the keys out of his pocket and dangling them by the understated key ring. As understated as it could be with the Ferrari symbol embedded in the metal.

“I do,” Spock said, looking at the keys. His face had the same expression as it did when he saw the gespar for breakfast that first morning.

“Then we should tell that person they can drive it, shouldn’t we?” Jim laughed, going into the parking deck and straight over to where the Ferrari was parked. “Here. When you find that person, give him the keys, okay?”

“I will,” Spock said, sliding into the driver’s seat as Jim entered the passenger side. “You are certain this is permissible?”

“Absolutely. If you dent it or even total it, I’ll have it fixed. Stop worrying,” Jim said as he fastened his seatbelt. “You can drive stick, right?”

“I can,” Spock assured him, depressing the clutch before starting the engine. It roared to life, the sounds echoing in the garage. “I additionally know the directions in which we must travel to arrive at the hotel.”

“You’re glad I got lost,” Jim laughed. “Otherwise how would we have met?”

“True,” Spock agreed, pulling out of the space. He could not help but be impressed by the power and beauty of the car. It was a finer experience than he had anticipated.

“If you took a couple of wrong turns while returning us to the hotel, I wouldn’t bother to point it out,” Jim said as Spock drove through the parking deck, getting a feel for the car.

“If I were to make several wrong turns, would you later remind me of my errors, in some way believing that would even the score?” Spock asked, making Jim laugh.

“I won’t tell a soul, I promise,” Jim said, relaxing in the seat as Spock pulled into the street.

It took 20 minutes longer than strictly necessary for them to arrive back at the hotel. Spock relished the opportunity to drive such a fine machine. The experience was beyond what he had ever expected. Additionally, he could feel Jim’s eyes on him, the caresses nearly tangible.

Spock bit back a sigh as he pulled the car into the space reserved for the occupants of the penthouse. He cut the engine, looking over at Jim. “Thank you.”

Jim smiled and shrugged. “If you knew someone who wanted to drive it tomorrow, you might tell him where he could find the keys.”

“I understood you would be taking it to the office,” Spock said.

“You could take me to the office. Then you would have it if you wanted it.”

“You would not object if I drove it to the beach?” Spock asked, not sure he had heard correctly.

“As long as you promise to be back at the suite in time to go to dinner,” Jim laughed.

“I will,” Spock said, leaving the car when Jim did. “And your friend will not object?”

“Scotty will be thrilled. He knows it needs to be driven more than it is. Like a horse – it needs a chance to stretch its legs.”

“Cars do not have legs,” Spock said only because he knew it would make Jim laugh. His warmth and approval transmitted to Spock when Jim hooked their little fingers before using his free hand to press the elevator button.