Oneshots, imagines, and ideas, oh my! *discontinued*

Spock Imagine

Spock Imagine

Note: It's been too long.

Warnings: I think there's foul language but I honestly can't remember. PG-13.

Spock Imagine

Y/n often passed Kirk and Spock, going in a different direction down the same hallway. Kirk would smile and wave to her, clap her on the shoulder if they didn't have time to talk. Spock would give her a stony "L/n.", and otherwise, ignore her. She'd return with 'Commander', and greet Kirk by name. As long as they were outside of the bridge, they were casual with one another. After all, they'd been best friends in the academy. Back then, Kirk was always certain that she'd end up being a commander, or have a thousand medals on her dress uniform. While she didn't achieve such far-fetched glory, she was of value in her field. Her expertise had always rested in navigation and the systems that supported it. It wasn't a very acclaimed job, but it was important, and she headed up every program and person who helped point the Enterprise towards its next goal. 

That made her non-essential personnel, but essential enough to warrant her very own spinny chair and area of complicated tech, and that was good for her. What wasn't good for her, however, was the uncomfortable feeling Spock gave her. Uncomfortable probably wasn't the best adjective, but it suited her purposes and her denial. She could only swallow the 'discomfort' up to a certain point, and that tolerance only covered her reaction to his stony hallway greetings, and not a word more.

She prided herself on her composure and her self-control, her relatively unapproachable exterior and her prioritizing logic over emotion. And when Spock interrupted those traits, it frustrated her to no end. 

The issue of her stalking--or lack thereof--was even more irritating. She blamed her incessant proximity to the commander on chance, even though she knew it was a reach. She was around him while she worked, naturally, but when she was enjoying leisure time or getting chow and she bumped into him it made her question the goals of her subconscious. Spock was a creature of routine, so he certainly wasn't changing his schedule for her. Y/n didn't much rely on coincidence, so the fact that both of their rigorous, personalized schedules coincided perfectly had no explanation that she was willing to accept. That was definitely irritating.

She spent ninety percent of her time either having a schoolgirl fantasy about a man with the emotional range of a calculator or biting people's heads off. Another four percent was spent sleeping, and the last six she used to navigate the ship. Her job performance didn't exactly suffer, but her personal relationships did. Chekov, at one point, asked her a perfectly innocent question about her systemic organization, and she bit his head off. That drew a fair bit of attention, most importantly, though, it earned her Spock's pointed gaze.

"Lieutenant, perhaps if you're having an issue keeping your emotions under control, you could visit the med bay."

A swell of anger rose in her throat, but it was quickly chased by a rush of embarrassment. She turned back to her console, cracking her neck as she did.

"Thank you for the suggestion, Commander. I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

Whoever hadn't been captivated by her lashing out at Chekov were paying attention to that, and for just a second, the room hung in the unspoken animosity she'd projected onto the commander. Then,  everything went back to normal, but the issue wasn't forgotten.

~~

"So, I don't know if you remember this, but can we talk about your complete mental breakdown earlier?"

She raised a brow at Kirk's greeting, slowly chewing the food in her mouth before giving a level response.

"I think 'complete mental breakdown' is a bit strong."